


Fly To You (Die To You)

by liawrites (jiminspisspad)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, But not in the main ships, Christmas, College AU, Eventual Smut, Every Member Gets a POV, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fraternities & Sororities, Frottage, Gen, Great Gatsby meets Mean Girls meets Stomp the Yard, Halloween, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Implied/Referenced Cheating, JohnTen is the main ship but, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Lots Of One-Sided Feelings, Love/Hate, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Men Crying, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, New Year's Eve, No Underage Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The others are also v important, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 91,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminspisspad/pseuds/liawrites
Summary: Tau Nu Pi has been the most revered and notorious fraternity at SMU for just about as long as anyone could remember. Between the startling success statistics of it's alumni, it's outstanding contributions to the town's communities and youths, and it's glittering parties - there was little not to love. Reigning supreme over it all was Johnny Seo, who as far as SMU was concerned was king of the world.But then, as far as Ten was concerned, he was the living embodiment of depravity. What everyone knew was that they'd been best friends once, what seemed like a long time ago; but those who remembered how it all came crashing down didn't speak on it, and the rest of the world was left to theorize without confirmation.Then Lucas Wong meets Mark Lee, and something in the universe ... shifts.





	1. The Last Costume Party: Lucas POV

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes my first ever NCT fanfic! This is going to be a long (ass) ride, but I'm super stoked about it and I hope you guys are, too!  
> \---
> 
> There is an [official twitter for this fanfic](https://twitter.com/ftydty_official) that you can follow for in-depth character profiles, headcanons, mood boards, deleted scenes, and other bonus content from the story that as of Feb 1st 2019 is not available anywhere else!
> 
> You can also check out my[ nct nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/pissdy), my [bts nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/jiminspisspad), and [my writing twitter](https://twitter.com/lia_writes) if you’re interested in following my other social media! Thanks so much for reading, and an even bigger thanks to those who leave kudos and comments! I appreciate you guys so much!

Lucas was almost one hundred percent sure that he had wandered into the wrong dormitory somehow. He wasn’t the kind of guy that held others to high expectations, especially when it came to other _college students_ (and wow, wasn’t that a strange thought – that _he_ was finally _in college_ ) but something about this place just seemed … off. Not in a sense that there was something _wrong_ , just that … well, it didn’t seem like anyone was really expecting him. Meaning to say: no one was home.

He supposed this might not have been overly abnormal. After all, it wasn’t far-fetched to assume that his new roommates were busy; it was just that since he’d be sharing this space with _three other people_ , and had gotten his room assignment nearly three weeks prior, he’d kind of assumed that at least one of them would stick around to welcome him on his first day. He was wrong.

The dormitory, while welcoming in and of itself, was entirely devoid of any other human presence, even after he knocked on all of the closed doors. While he didn’t find anyone to talk to, he did discover a living room with a couch that looked like it would swallow him whole and two comfy chairs that didn’t really match each other _or_ the couch. While others might have thought it a bizarre decorating style, Lucas was able to appreciate the struggling artist aesthetic of the place, with its poorly slapped-up paint and coffee stained surfaces. Somewhere between the David Bowie throw pillow on the floor and the all-white pair of Adidas sneakers on the kitchen counter, he started to feel right at home. Which, he kept having to remind himself: he _was_.

This was home now. _This_ , meaning the upper-level apartment of the student housing duplex located on the northern most side of campus. His orientation paperwork called it Student Division N-U, which sounded a _lot_ cooler than it looked, with tattered carpeting that had long-since lost its original color and an abnormally clean patch of wall shaped in a large rectangle as if something that once belonged there had been recently torn down.

The couch proved to be even more fluffy and welcoming than its first impression promised, and Lucas sunk into it gratefully, wondering idly which of the closed bedroom doors was now housing his belongings. The movers his parents insisted on hiring for him had gotten here the day before, so there was no real way of telling without peering into both areas of the apartment, and he didn’t want to intrude on the space of … with a concentrated frown, he pulled out his orientation paperwork again and squinted to see the handwritten name filled in atop the blank ‘roommate’ space. It was a cramped scribble, like it was struggling to fit on the line: _Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul._ He hoped his new roommate was less intimidating than his name was.

Of course, one of the rooms was Jungwoo’s, and Jungwoo wouldn’t mind Lucas hanging out in his space. They’d been childhood friends for as long as he could remember, and Jungwoo’s legacy at SMU was likely a major part of what had gotten Lucas accepted in the first place, although he’d insist to anyone that asked him that he’d passed the entrance exam entirely on his own merit, thank-you-very-much.

Lucas was just about to doze off into a nap when at long last the door opened, and he stood up eagerly with a broad smile, feeling a little bit silly, a little bit like a housewife anticipating the arrival of her working husband, and a little bit _nervous_ on top of everything else.

“Shit! Is no one home yet?” The stranger who walked through the door exclaimed, panting for breath and looking as if he’d crash-landed into the room sort of by accident, “I’ve got extra credit for Remedial Psychology in _twenty minutes_ , Kun’s supposed to be home by now!” The other boy, looking to be about Lucas’ age, (which was confusing in and of itself, as SMU very rarely roomed freshman together with one another) collapsed heavily into one of the comfy chairs, and then seemed to shake away his prior distress, instead offering a beaming grin and his hand for Lucas to shake:

“I’m Mark Lee, you must be Lucas Wong, right?”

While Lucas did nod his agreement, he couldn’t help but be a little preoccupied with his certainty that there was no one listed as living in this apartment by the name of Mark Lee. To his credit, Mark seemed to know exactly what Lucas was thinking and aimed to correct his concern immediately.

“I know, I know, you’re wondering why I’m in your dorm. This was actually supposed to be _my_ dorm, but I pledged Tau Nu Pi early admittance this summer, so now I’m living across campus at the frat house. Ten’s pretty chill about who comes and goes, so I’ve still got my keys. Say, are you any good with _kids_?”

Mark Lee, in a word, was _overwhelming_. He also seemed, in that moment, to be _overwhelmed_. Lucas found himself laughing uproariously at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, before stopping to be a little _impressed_. Class didn’t start until the following Monday and Mark was already taking remedial courses _and_ in a fraternity despite being a freshman. This kid seemed to have it all together … except for that weird bit at the end.

“Kids?” Lucas openly wondered, “I mean, I _guess_?”

The sheer amount of relief that washed over Mark’s face inspired nothing but _fear_ in Lucas.

“You don’t mind babysitting, do you? Just for like an hour or until Kun gets home. He _said_ he’d be done with work by now, but I guess he got held up… they’re good kids, I swear, just a little misunderstood!”

Before Lucas was able to agree or disagree to the absurd and seemingly _random_ request, the door opened again.

“—well what did you _expect_ me to tell her? I can’t lie to my own mother!”

“Jeno, I swear on all that is good in this world, if I can find a bigger _snitch_ –”

“How does that even count as snitching? My parents don’t care what _you_ do with your free time they just don’t want _me_ involved with—”

“Shh!”

Lucas watched, dumbfounded, as his college life reality was split and fractured by the abundant presence of what was unmistakably a group of _high schoolers._ There were five of them total, and they came in and sat around the kitchen table comfortably as if they’d been here a thousand times over, which … just _didn’t make sense_. Two of them he recognized from his own Alma Mater, an elite performing arts school in town that he and Jungwoo had attended together as music majors. He wasn’t acquainted with the students themselves, it was their uniforms that were familiar, seeing as he’d been in the same ones himself just six months prior. The other three had more simple uniforms, alleging them with the local high school down the street. The two institutions were rivals _at best_ , and both of them maintained a firm **ban** on students fraternizing with anyone on the University campus.

This ban, it seemed, was of no concern to these five rascals _at all_. Either that, or they had special permission to be here. Which, since Mark had basically just asked him to _babysit them_ , was the more likely option.

“You guys will be good for Lucas, right?” Mark was now asking, up from his seat and leering over the table with an expression that he must have intended as stern and intimidating although it came off as a distinctly _cuter_ brand of huffy. It was so endearing, in fact, that Lucas entirely overlooked the fact that he hadn’t actually _agreed_ to anything yet.

A harmonious chorus of “Yes, Mark!” sang sweetly from all five of their lips in unison, and Lucas felt the pleasantness that comes with any warm welcome fluttering sweetly in his stomach. So sweetly, in fact, that he didn’t think to wonder why none of them asked who this Lucas person _was_.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later, when five sets of eyes were staring expectantly in his direction that he started wondering what he’d really gotten himself into.

“So, _Lucas_ ,” The littlest one began, grinning sweetly and batting his eyelashes with the practiced technique of someone who had grown accustomed to getting their way all of the time, “Are you going to the party tonight?”

“Chenle,” Another one murmured softly in warning, “We promised Mark to be _good_ , remember?”

Well, if nothing else, the kids were cute. Lucas would give them that much.

“Let’s start with introductions,” He suggested, coming to sit at the table with them and belatedly thinking that he should probably have wondered why a four person dorm had an eight person table in the first place. It seemed that company was the norm around here, “I’m Lucas Wong, and I’m a freshman here at SMU,”

“I’m Renjun, and we kinda know who you are already,” One of them, apparently _Renjun_ , answered, “Mark is your student advisor, he’s been so stressed about you starting class that he slacked off on his summer school so he’d have time to welcome you properly – that’s why he’s having to make it up today, so he can get the credit in before term properly starts.”

Lucas was starting to get a little weary of surprises. Dumbfounded just wasn’t a good look on him, and he’d been experiencing it more than enough in the last hour. His mild annoyance (mostly _concern_ ) at Mark having abandoned him with the high schoolers evaporated quickly into a softer _fondness_ that his student advisor was such an over-achiever on his behalf.

“He didn’t have to do something like that if it’s stretching him so thin…” Lucas muttered with a slightly worried frown, wondering when exactly the wellbeing of Mark Lee became relevant to him in the first place.

“Mark is _always_ stretching himself too thin,” The soft spoken one lamented, as if it was something that had been burdening him for the vast majority of his existence, “O-oh, and I’m Jisung Park. Nice to meet you, Lucas,”

Jisung Park was a slight and mousy looking boy, although almost as tall as Lucas himself.  He was one of the two that was donned in Lucas’ own former school uniform, and was sitting closely beside the other, as he looked down at his hands. Lucas found him adorable.

“I’m Jaemin, and this is Jeno. He’s a little shy with strangers, but super cute when you get to know him,” the boy who was apparently Jaemin announced, presenting the kid next to him as if he was the most exquisite person on the planet. “Jeno, Renjun, and me went to school with Mark until he graduated last year. He means a lot to us, so I promise we’ll go easy on ya and keep the others under control.” He cut a playfully combative look over to the last boy, who Lucas had deduced was Chenle, and received a light pout in return.

“Hey, Mark is important to us _too_ , y’know!” Chenle complained, crossing his arms over his chest and popping his gum loudly, “Besides, Lucas is handsome. There’s no _way_ he won’t get scouted at the party tonight, and you know I like to keep my contacts updated.”

Lucas’ confusion was once again on the rise, and he quickly shook his head, “Oh, I don’t go to to any high school parties, guys,” He attempted to correct, only to watch five people burst into simultaneous snickering.

“Neither do we,” Jisung piped up, coyly, eyes twinkling with something secretive and mischievous that Lucas hadn’t thought would be in character for him, “We mean the _Tau Nu Pi_ party at the frat house, tonight. It’s a costume party, and if you miss it you’ll basically be a social pariah for the next _year_ , so you should probably go,”

Chenle nodded adamantly, an oddly superior expression taking over his features, “You want to _be somebody_ here, right? It would suck to just make it like another four years of what you went through in high school…”

Jeno stood up to get something out of the fridge and Lucas’ eyes followed the motion silently, not willing himself to recognize what he _hadn’t_ anticipated … that even if he didn’t recognize Chenle and Jisung beyond their uniforms, _they_ recognized _him_. Recognized him for the loser he’d been last year.

Well, loser was a bit strong. It was more that no one _had_ noticed him in school. SR Academy was an entirely different beast than SM University, although it was almost a guarantee that if you got into the first for high school you’d pursue the second for college. Once you’d landed an acceptance letter to SMU, it was a _given_ that you were worthy of attendance … not so much at the Academy. It was pretty fair to say that you could buy your way in, and there was an assumption that the vaster majority of the students just weren’t as talented as those who would move on to do great things with their higher education as well.

Lucas was distinctly _un_ - _extraordinary_ when it came to his artistic abilities, and at SR Academy, that meant he didn’t have a niche. Which, in turn, meant that he didn’t have many _friends_. Once Jungwoo graduated out, there really wasn’t much of _anyone_ who even knew who he was. Except, apparently, _these kids_.

Oddly, Lucas was embarrassed not to have remembered _them_.  But Jisung and Chenle were juniors, and he was in college. Why would he have known freshman in his junior year, or sophomores as a senior?

“Yeah,” He agreed, albeit with a little disdain for Chenle’s comment and a lot of disdain for _himself_ , “I _don’t_ want it to be like high school,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chenle cut in, accepting the bottle of water that Jeno handed him from the fridge and sipping it delicately, “You’re is a shoo-in for TNP, and that _guarantees_ social success,”

Jaemin leaned back on the back legs of his chair, popping his feet up on the table and began scrolling through his phone idly, as Lucas settled into comfortable conversation with Renjun, who seemed to believe it was his life’s purpose to make up for any area that Mark might miss when it came to being a student advisor. Lucas was impressed with Renjun’s knowledge of the school, not quite understanding it until he bashfully pointed out that Jeno’s mother was a member of the staff.

“Did you see Taeyong’s Instagram post?” Jaemin randomly contributed several minutes later, and Lucas watched with fascination as every single one of them simultaneously pulled their phones out to check.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Chenle exclaimed, squeaking out an insanely manic giggle and throwing his head back with the force of it before showing his phone to Jisung, as if the other boy wasn’t already frowning down at his own, “He literally covered Johnny Seo’s bare dick with an emoji…”

“Ten’s gonna _lose it_ ,” Jaemin sighed out sadly, clicking his phone back to sleep, clearly feeling empathetically distraught, “You know he _blocked_ Doyoung for posting their birthday dinner pictures last year, right?”

Seemingly as a courtesy, Renjun passed his phone over so that Lucas could look at the picture, and he found himself snorting as the image of a distractingly handsome man beamed into the camera. He had a small key, seemingly to an old fashioned lock-and-key diary or something similar, dangling out of his left ear. His eyes were heavily (unnaturally) dilated, and his cheeks held a flustered blush. Behind him, if you looked _carefully_ , in the full-sized mirror he was using to take his selfie in, you could see the bottom half of another man sprawled over a small and neatly made bed; and surely enough – the space between his thighs had been untactfully edited over with a smiling poop.

“Not to be presumptuous,” Lucas began, clearing his throat nervously and hating himself for caring whether or not he made a good impression on these _children_ , “But this is literally just legs. How do you know it’s even a picture of … um ...?”

“How do we know its _Johnny Seo’s_ legs?” Chenle repeated back to him with what seemed like a challenge in his eyes, “Because Johnny Seo is the only person allowed in Taeyong’s bedroom. And that’s _Taeyong’s_ bed,” He explained proudly.

“Which is _why_ Ten’s gonna _lose it_ ,” Jaemin muttered out, resting his head in his hands and groaning loudly.

Lucas was finding that he had more questions than answers. Like how Chenle knew that the picture was of a room that he was suggesting no one had really ever been in, or who exactly this _Ten_ person is that he’d now heard mentioned for what he thought was the _third_ time. Fortunately or unfortunately, before he was able to voice any of these concerns, Mark returned, panting and heaving with eyes blown wide open, like the wind swept him in.

“Good, right where I left you!” Mark exclaimed with what seemed like _surprise_ as he warmly embraced Chenle, ruffling his hair. Lucas got the impression that despite all promises and assurances of good behavior, Mark had not actually expected the kids (Chenle specifically) to _be good_.

“They were great,” Lucas reported with a fond smile, just so that he could watch the way Mark beamed down at the youngsters as they smiled sweetly back up at him.

“Of _course_ we were!” Chenle chirped, cutely, “So, _Mark_ , Lucas here hasn’t been invited to the costume party tonight, and I was thinking that maybe if _you_ take him, then Doyoung can give us all a ride home from there?”

There was something mischievous in the way Chenle had made the suggestion, and Lucas was sure that Mark picked up on it, but either he didn’t have the energy to disagree, or was willing to let whatever the truth was play itself out, because with a distracted nod, he accepted the idea almost as eagerly as if he was the one who’d suggested it.

It wasn’t until months later that it would occur to him that this approval had been for _his_ sake, although perhaps he should have picked up on it by Mark’s next sentence:

“Did you _want_ to go to the party?” He looked at Lucas with eyes wide open ( _soul_ wide open) and Lucas would later, the very same day that he realized Mark was only going along with Chenle’s shenanigans for _him_ , realize that he’d never had a chance – and that in that moment, that exact time and space, the universe had already decided to make him fall in love with Mark Lee.

“I mean-” He faltered, looked at the kids, who were all back to their preoccupation with the social media on their smartphones, and then _had_ to glance back at Mark, because Mark was _inescapable_ and because Mark was a force that screamed he was meant to be always, **constantly** in motion, and because just then, Mark was _still_ , and it was _because of him_ , “Sure, I’d love to.”

What he meant was that he didn’t want to be alone (lonely, he didn’t want to be _lonely_ ) all night long, and that he didn’t know when he’d see Jungwoo, or Chittaphon, or whoever his third roommate was, and that Mark was new, but Mark was _lovely_ , and most importantly Mark was _here_.

“It’s settled then,” Chenle stated factually. “We should head over there now, so he has time to change properly.”

 “Shuttle comes in five minutes, we can make it if we hurry,” Jaemin chimed in, and everyone who’d been seated started standing up and gathering their things. 

Mark seemed to be _studying_ Lucas, like he was waiting for some kind of mask to crack and reveal the naked flesh beneath, but he shook himself out of it quickly and replaced his more stoic expression with a kind smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” He confirmed softly, and turned around to leave (a simple task, considering he’d barely made it in the door).

The walk to the shuttle was a brief one, and Lucas made sure to take note of it. As they journeyed, Mark and Renjun explained the public transportation system on campus. The shuttle they were in currently, 127, ran from the northern campus dormitories to the southern campus Greek lawn. It stopped in front of the auditorium for the theater college, and again at the stadium before reaching its final destination: a shabby glass bus shelter seated directly across the street from a large and imposing house, ornamented by a huge crimson banner that read _Tau Nu Pi_.

There was another shuttle, the 7S, that did a much less express version of the same trip but ran all night long, and Mark pointed out that the 7S would likely be the bus Lucas would have to take to and from whatever classes he couldn’t walk to – but that the northern dormitory was close to most of the music buildings, so with his Major (Bachelor of Arts in Music) he could walk or bike (If he had one) to most of his more elective themed subjects and would really only need to make use of the shuttle system if he was going to a core class like math.

Lucas endeavored to do his very best impression of a _sponge_ as he was overloaded with information, and hoped that he did an okay job of it, because by the time they were walking up to the door and into the house, he was once again finding himself _overwhelmed_.

They entered into a classically modest living area that looked much bigger than he was sure it actually _was_ , as all of the furniture in the entire room was pushed back against the wall, making a comical display of itself with the television facing a window, and the couch ( _three_ couches) lined up on the remaining walls wherever they could fit. The floor was once a gorgeous hardwood, he could tell, but the years had made it scratched and dull, and the grandeur it could have once held was long gone.

Through the living room, there was a den, similar in size. Here there were no chairs, but a disco ball hung precariously from a gold chain that looked as if it belonged around someone’s _neck_ , not on someone’s _ceiling_ , and a wall-mounted speaker sat awkwardly above the mantel of a fireplace that held no wood and was instead home to a black leather footlocker with a heavy combination lock on the front of it.

“They keep the _hazing paddles_ in there, y’know,” Jisung whispered to Lucas conspiringly, and he found himself gulping without any genuine stimulus of fear. He had no intention of pledging into this fraternity, so whatever the process for it entailed was frankly none of his business. Although he wondered how _haze culture_ had managed to survive at such a prestigious institution, especially if it was so common-tongue that a high schooler knew about it.

Lucas, at this juncture, still had _a lot to learn_.

He let Mark lead them into the kitchen, which was just about the only _normal_ looking room Lucas had seen thus far. The kids seemed to have _scattered_ almost as soon as they got over the threshold, and by the time Mark had seated himself beside someone unfamiliar at the counter island, Lucas was in over his head again.

“Johnny’s been trying to reach you all _day_ , you know…” The dark-haired man murmured to Mark a little reproachfully, “Something about a poster?”

Mark’s eyes were blown wide instantly, and with a muttered curse he was bounding out of the room, leaving Lucas alone with the stranger. He could hear footsteps trotting quickly up the staircase, and then a deeper – no – _smokier_ voice speaking in recognition of Mark’s sprinting arrival:

“ _Baby boy_ , step into my office a minute…”

There was something too confident about that single piece of dialogue for the sentence to have been spoken by anyone _but_ this Johnny Seo character, but Lucas wasn’t given the chance to dwell on it when the man he was now alone with spun around in his stool to look at him.

“Don’t worry, any friend of Mark’s is a friend of ours,” he said with a charming smile, holding his hand out for what had to be the only real _proper_ introduction Lucas had been offered that day. “Doyoung Kim, at your service – it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr … ?”

“Uh, Wong. Lucas Wong. You’re one of the guys who did that ballad for the homecoming game last year, right?” Lucas was _sure_ he was, but felt it more polite to ask, and couldn’t regret it when he saw the surprised pleasure that ignited in _Doyoung Kim’s_ eyes. Was everyone at this school the kind of person that you had to address by first _and_ last name, or was it just trendy to introduce yourself that way?

“Oh, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas…” Doyoung began, resting his chin against his palm fondly, “You just have no _idea_ how delighting it is when my reputation precedes me. Were you at the game, or did you just-”

Before he could finish, a third person bounded into the kitchen in a hysterical frenzy, and Lucas was able to briefly recognize him as the man he’d seen on Instagram earlier before he was nearly knocked a foot back as the stranger – _Taeyong_ , he recalled – stepped bodily forward and shoved his hand in Doyoung’s face.

“Does this bump on my finger look like oral herpes to you?” He had about three fourths of his body covered in green paint, leaving his hands and face bare but little else. Lucas was less curious about the bump on his finger and more curious about his _costume_ , and it seemed that Doyoung shared this sentiment. Or, at least shared the initial apathy behind it.

“You do know what the word _oral_ means, right? You can’t get something _oral_ on your _hand,_ genius. Maybe while you’re self-diagnosing, you should try for _hypochondria_ ,”

Lucas found himself having to choke down a laugh at Doyoung’s blunt words, and _failed_ to choke down a laugh when Taeyong exited the room muttering that whatever hypochondria was, he probably _did_ have it.

“We’ve got a bunch of pirate shit lying around in the storage room downstairs if you need a costume,” Doyoung offered without any segue, not seeming to even want to dignify Taeyong’s outburst with recognition, “Our last party theme was _Shipwreck_ , _”_

Lucas gladly accepted the offer and let Doyoung point him in the general direction of their basement, where he first ran into a room with nothing in it apart from a liquor cabinet and a stripper pole, then stumbled into what seemed to be a _bedroom_ , only that it held four bunk-beds and little else, before finally finding what could only have _been_ a storage room, as it was full of boxes. Luckily, they were _meticulously_ stacked and labeled, and he had no trouble at all creating a pirate costume and adorning himself with it. He decided to forgo the eyepatch after noticing just _how much_ it impaired his vision, but couldn’t resist the opportunity to place a clip-on parrot on his shoulder.

He found a mirror, too, and got a little bit preoccupied looking at himself in it to make sure that everything was successfully in place. A little _too_ preoccupied, apparently, because when he heard someone coming down the stairs into the basement behind him, he nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Don’t mind us,” It was Chenle speaking, and he’d brought along Jaemin and Jisung, “We stashed our costumes down here last weekend. You look great, Lucas!”

He had to wonder just how often these kids attended college parties, especially the ones hosted by this particular fraternity – which, truth be told, didn’t have the best reputation for up keeping its own values. In fact, its values weren’t part of its reputation _at all_. Lucas couldn’t tell you a single thing _about_ Tau Nu Pi apart from the fact that once, nearly three years back as he recalled, they had thrown a Halloween party so insane that one of the attic windows had been shattered, and they’d been ‘fundraising’ under the ruse of covering the damages ever since.

“Thanks,” He offered to Chenle, albeit after a pause that was inappropriately long in comparison to when the kid had spoken, “Where’d you guys get off to?”

“Here and there,” Jaemin drawled, casually, pulling a lavender dress out of a box labeled ‘Lock, Stock, and Barrel’ and seating an inordinately tall witch hat on Jisung’s head, “I think Mark wants to say bye to you before he heads out. You might want to go do that,”

Lucas couldn’t say why he was as disappointed as he _was_ to learn that Mark wouldn’t be staying for the party. He felt … almost _cheated_ , somehow. Would he have agreed to come here tonight if he’d known that he’d be surrounded by strangers? Was Mark Lee not a _stranger_ to him after what could only have been _minutes_ of bonding time?

Nonetheless, he did trudge up the stairs to find his wayward student advisor, and was not disappointed when he discovered Mark on the living room couch with yet _another_ new face. Lucas was likely going to take a few days before he could memorize all these names, much less match them to the people they belong to…

“Lucas!” Mark exclaimed, as if there was no one in the world he’d rather see. “Pirate, huh? Cool! I’ve gotta head to the soup kitchen now, but can we meet up tomorrow? I want to show you around a bit more and go down to the administrative corridor to get your class schedule,”

Mark looked off-put by the complete lack of enthusiasm in Lucas’ responding nod, but he didn’t have the heart to explain to him that he wasn’t annoyed by their plans to see each other again, he was annoyed that Mark had taken him here and was now _leaving_.

“If you need anything, Doyoung said he’ll keep an eye on you after he gets back from dropping the kids off, so just give him about twenty minutes.”

Lucas idly wondered if Mark realized that there were three children _missing_ currently from Doyoung’s car. Likely not. Well, it wasn’t really his place to out them if they wanted to come to the party. He’d certainly envied college parties himself when _he_ was in high school. Hell, he’d envied _high school parties_ when he was in high school. He’d envied every single _thing_ that Jungwoo wasn’t invited to, because if Jungwoo didn’t go, there was just no _way_ anyone had thought to invite Lucas; and once Jungwoo _graduated_ , well …

His social life wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you brag about, and he’d be remiss to inflict the same _loser-ness_ onto Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin. They seemed to be harmless kids, even if not _entirely_ as innocent as they’d like Mark to believe they were. Whether or not he _did_ believe it was up in the air, but Lucas had a niggling feeling that his student advisor wasn’t nearly as aloof as he let on.

“I’ll find Doyoung when he gets back, then,” He agreed, attempting to offer Mark a smile because it really wasn’t _Mark’s_ fault that Lucas had misunderstood. In the meantime, he held out his hand to the fellow Mark was sitting _beside_ , “Hey, I’m Lucas,”

“I know,” The man said, looking up from his phone briefly, “I’m Taeil, give me _one second_ , I’m just finishing up this flyer for the party…”

The ‘flyer’ was actually a picture, and Lucas observed as Mark exited the room and Taeil posted the image to his Instagram and Snapchat story, seconds apart.

“We never announce the theme of the party until the night of,” Taeil explained, swiping through to Twitter, Tumblr, Reddit, and then Facebook in turn, “Keeps the competition on their toes,” He winked, and Lucas didn’t really understand _any_ of what he was saying, so he plopped himself down awkwardly on the couch, nearly dislodging his clip-on parrot in the process.

“It seems like everyone I’ve talked to today has _introduced_ this as a costume party, and half of the people I’ve seen are already in costume,” He mentioned, frowning wryly, “I kinda think your theme got outed…”

“Of course it did,” It was Doyoung speaking now, as he, too, walked into the living room, setting down a black leather satchel bag haphazardly on the floor and squeezing in between Lucas and Taeil on the sofa, “We leak it through word-of-mouth a week before, so people who care about feeling ahead of the game can feel ahead of the game, then we reveal it _officially_ on the day of – so people who didn’t have time to prepare always feel like _no one_ had time to prepare, so they’re still on equal ground and show up anyway,”

Taeil continued, “There’s a prize for _best at theme_ at every single party we throw, but it’s actually more of a reverse auction. We don’t ever reveal how much the prize is ahead of time, but it’s always cash-”

“And it’s always exactly _one third_ of whatever we made at the door from cover,” Doyoung cut in, smiling ingeniously, “That was _my idea_ ,”

Lucas had the feeling that he was not the only person who’d gotten caught on a seemingly endless wheel of feeling _cheated_ in this house.

“No offense,” He cautioned, “But why are you telling _me_ any of this?”

Taeil snorted and Doyoung rolled his eyes, “Johnny Seo’s got his eye on you already,” Taeil sighed out, “So since it’s only a matter of time before you’re one of us _anyway_ , there’s just no point in being secretive about anything you’ll need to know.”

Lucas was beginning to feel like he was being recruited for a cult, and not in a good way (if there _was_ a good way). Meaning to say that what he was sure he was meant to perceive as some kind of exclusive and honorable invitation was really coming off a little too pushy and a little too _soon_. It was literally his _first day_. He hadn’t even met his _own_ roommates yet and he was already being lured in by some shifty frat?

“I wouldn’t know _Johnny Seo_ if he was standing right in front of my _face_ ,” He hissed out with clear irritation, “So I don’t see what _his_ interest in _me_ has to do with _my life_ at all. Keep your secrets if no one outside of your frat should know them, cause I have absolutely no intention of joining,”

Doyoung shrugged, and Taeil went back to his phone with a light snicker. They didn’t believe him. Well, weren’t they just _hot shit_? Ugh. Popular people were the same everywhere you go, it seemed – didn’t matter if it was high school or college. Lucas was, however, starting to think that being on the outside wasn’t so bad after all. He certainly didn’t want to be a part of … whatever _this_ was. The Johnny Seo _fan club_ it seemed like!

But he _did_ stay for the party, and it _was_ impressive – he’d give them that. It took the guys nearly two hours to get the house fully transformed, but once it was complete it was … _astounding_. They replaced the ordinary bulbs in their lamps with black-out lights, and let the mysterious glow of red and purple faerie lights to the rest of the work for them as far as _ambiance_. The wall-mounted speakers (which Lucas realized were in _every room_ on the first level and basement, just not as obviously placed as the one in the den) were blaring a hip and trendy mix of the latest pop music perfectly balanced with older and more nostalgic hits.

The landing of their stairs had been transformed to a stage, and there was an upturned top hat on a stool for you to enter a slip of paper with your name in order to be judged for the costume contest at the end of the evening. The _judges_ were seated regally beside the make-shift stage in what looked like _thrones_ , and for the first time – Lucas saw _him_.

Johnny _Fuckin’_ Seo. It was clearly stated that the brothers of Tau Nu Pi were not eligible participants in the contest, but that didn’t stop them all from being in costume. Of course, _Johnny_ didn’t look like he was playing dress up at all.  Caped, with a scepter in one hand, and the other resting much too casually on the waist of a girl Lucas hadn’t met before, the crown on his head seemed to be the exact _opposite_ of out of place.

He was dressed up as (embodying, with every molecule of his existence) a _king_. And Lucas decided that maybe it was a costume he was wearing all of the time, only without the cape and scepter. The crown, however, he must have always felt the weight of – whether or not it was on his head.

Johnny’s eyes were scanning the crowd frantically, and his fingers – nails clipped so neatly that if this was still _high school_ (but fuck it really _wasn’t_ anymore) he would have been teased for it. His _fingers_ , were tapping at that girl’s waistline like he was anxious. Like he was _bored_. Like she was just an object, like a table, or a counter-top, for him to tap-tap- _tap_ away on while he waited for something _important_ to happen.

Lucas was so curious just _observing him_ that he almost didn’t recognize Jisung on the opposite side of the room. He was wearing that tall witch hat and the purple dress from earlier, and had make-up on his face to make it look even more angular. _Pointed_. He was surrounded by a crowd of women, all swooning over him (some pinching his cheeks, others giggling in that darling and sweet and _sticky like honey_ way that _girls_ giggle).

When Lucas walked over to intervene he told himself that he was doing it for Mark’s sake and then scolded himself for giving a single fuck about Mark - who despite his _kindness_ , and his _sweetness_ , and that way that his eyes stole your breath away before your mind could even catch up enough to know you should have been breathing – despite all of _that_ … Mark was still one of them. Still pledged, packaged, and _property_ of Tau Nu Pi, and the longer Lucas lingered at this party, the more that made him sick to his stomach.

“Hey!” He called out over the music, approaching Jisung with long strides and coming to stand between him and the girl who was stroking her hand against his neck with something that was just a little bit _beyond_ any appropriate level of affection for a boy his age, “What the hell’s going on over here?”

Jisung jolted with a start, and pouted pitifully as the cloud of admirers that had been surrounding him quickly dissipated, “Lucas what the _fuck_ , she was totally about to buy me a beer!”

“How fuckin’ old are you, _thirteen_? You have no business with her _or_ a beer!”

“I’m _six_ teen, and it’s none of _your business_ what my business is…” Jisung’s words were a lot harder than the tone in which he spoke, and Lucas could barely even _hear him_ over the music. He was moments away from threatening to call Mark when he realized that he didn’t have Mark’s number, didn’t know if that was even a threat Jisung would care about, and didn’t know what he’d even report anyway.

 _Jisung flirted with a grown-up and almost got free alcohol out of it_.

It didn’t hold the same conviction that Lucas _felt_ it should have, no matter how much he paraphrased it in his mind. It did, however, seem to make a bit of a _scene_ , because by the time Lucas turned back around to figure out where the _other two_ had sleuthed off to, he found himself chest to chest with—

“I can take it from here,”

Johnny _fuckin’_ Seo.

Who Lucas was ready to hate up until exactly the moment that he realized Johnny had Chenle and Jaemin standing sulkily behind him. He’d busted them. All _three_ of them. Was that what he’d been doing when he was perusing (wanting, needing, _searching and not finding_ ) the room earlier?

“You three know the rules, yeah?” Johnny asked and his voice was gentle, patient and stern and _hard._ Not hard like a brick, or a stone, or cast iron – hard like a _cock_ , and Lucas was repulsed and enticed all at once. The Johnny Seo’s of this world weren’t meant for the Lucas Wong’s. They were cooler than that, better than that, _harder_ than that.

They were meant for the _Mark Lee’s_.

And that bit into Lucas’ brain in a way that he didn’t enjoy _at all_.

“Yes, Johnny,” All three kids murmured, with the same synchronism but vastly less enthusiasm than they’d answered Mark with earlier that evening.

“Fuck off upstairs then, or I’m calling all of your parents – and if I hear that you give Yuta even a _peep_ of attitude, I’m calling _Mark_.”

Ah, so Mark really _was_ a good threat, then. Lucas had a feeling he would have to keep that in mind.

“They’re good kids,” Johnny was saying – and Lucas realized Johnny was talking to _him_ , “They just wanna grow up too fast, that’s all. Thanks for stepping in, I hadn’t even _noticed_ Jisung right here till you came over,”

Johnny looked … frazzled. A little worried, and a little out of sorts, like a mother who’d just found the child she’d gotten separated from in a grocery store. He was harder to hate like this.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Johnny Seo,”

“Yeah, I know.”

Johnny tilted his head back and barked out a glorious laugh, and his hand came down to pat Lucas’ shoulder as he grinned at him. His eyes were brown, dark, _gorgeous_ and **hard**. Hard like his voice – hard like a _cock_.

“You’ve heard about me, hm? All good things I hope,” Johnny drawled bashfully, scratching the back of his head and looking … looking rather absurd under that huge crown, which Lucas had just realized was a lot more gaudy and ridiculous than it had originally seemed, “I’ve heard about _you_ , too. You’re Tennie’s new roommate, yeah?”

Frankly, Lucas had no idea who Tennie was and whether or not they were roommates, and he said so, which made Johnny laugh again. Short, and jovial, and _hard_. Like a cock.

“Your paperwork probably says Chittaphon, but don’t ever call him that, he’ll lose his _entire_ shit,” Johnny chuckled out, “He’s been going by _Ten_ for as long as I’ve known him – and that’s a good fifteen years longer than _most_ , I reckon.”

Johnny Seo was a pretty cool guy. Nice, charming, distractingly _alluring_ and then hopelessly _human_ just in exactly the places where Lucas wanted to hate him for being a God. It was impossible _not_ to like him, and as they chatted for a few more minutes (precious minutes, where he was lured into thinking that he was the only person in the room – the same magic trick that Mark had pulled earlier) Lucas’ resolve to dislike Johnny evaporated completely.  

He figured there were usually three types of popular people. There were the A-types, like _Doyoung_ , who knew they were a step ahead of everyone else and _reveled_ in it. There were the B-Types, like _Mark_ , who knew a little bit of everyone here and there, and then there were the rarer, better, _harder_ , C-types. The ones that got their social prestige by actually being _wholesome and personable human beings_. Somehow, this was the category Lucas would have placed Johnny into after having spoken to him, although he wouldn’t have pegged him that way just by _hearing_ about him.

“I hate to blow you off, but I’ve gotta judge this costume contest,” Johnny apologized, “Which means I’ve gotta get the kiddies out of time-out. I promised them they could try for a shot at winning, since they put so much work into their little Nightmare Before Christmas getups,”

Ah – Lucas _did_ recognize the costumes now that he thought about it. He allowed Johnny to escape upstairs, and stuck around to see a _different_ high school kid, Donghyuck, win the costume contest dressed as Neo from The Matrix. He didn’t exactly understand how wearing something as simple as a black latex trench-coat could beat out all of the time and preparation that had clearly gone into Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin’s outfits, but Lucas wasn’t a judge.

He _could_ tell that the trio was put out, though – and after a large amount of whining and (though he was sure none of them would admit it) one or two cases of petulant _foot stomping_ , it was somehow agreed that Donghyuck would take them out to breakfast with his prize money. Apparently, the satisfaction of _winning_ was all he needed. 

More strange was that Lucas himself landed an invitation to this gathering, and so when Doyoung refused to drive, he found himself aboard a shuttle with the youngsters yet again.

“That. Was. _Awesome_!” Donghyuck exclaimed with jovial glee, practically bouncing in his seat despite the fact that it was – Lucas checked his watch – now coming on _five in the morning_. To his own credit, he managed a thumbs-up through his yawn, “I can’t _believe_ I won again, I barely even spent a week’s worth of my allowance!”

Jisung made a rude hand gesture, and Jaemin punched him in the arm, although he didn’t look any more pleased about the outcome of the competition than the rest of them did.

“Whatever,” Chenle sneered, shortly, “I talked to Doyoung before we left and I’ve been assured that we have officially witnessed the _last ever_ costume party at Tau Nu Pi,”

“ _What_? Chenle that’s ridiculous…” Jaemin contradicted, not seeming to mind that Jisung was giving him a look that quite clearly was asking exactly whose side he was on, “Halloween’s in _two months_!”

Chenle shrugged with a single shoulder and slouched down in his seat, “My parents aren’t funding another _fundraiser_ if their son doesn’t enjoy himself,” He announced, tartly, “And I did _not_ have a good time,” He looked at Donghyuck rather intensely here, and then offered a much less aggressive but still determinably _annoyed_ glance at Lucas as well.

“We worked all last week for these costumes, successfully ditched the super-snitch, avoided Mark, _and_ got Johnny to agree that we could enter … just to get busted by a newbie, excluded like _children_ , and then _lose_ because apparently Donghyuck has a nice _rain slicker_ on!”

“It’s a _trench-coat_.”

“It’s a national embarrassment, and I fucking hate you.”

Lucas wasn’t entirely certain that he had the energy to stick the night out with these kids. He liked them well-enough, but it wasn’t like he’d really be seeing much of them considering they were in high-school, and he’d agreed to meet Mark the next morning and now it _was_ the next morning, and he still hadn’t slept.

“N-U is the next stop, if you’re tired,” Jisung pointed out softly, as if he’d been reading Lucas’ mind, “Everyone should be home by now, so …”

Lucas didn’t know or _care_ whether Jisung actually gave a fuck about him or just didn’t want him around to bust them for whatever shenanigans they had in store for the rest of their weekend. He was exhausted, and really _did_ want to see Mark when he woke up, and was beyond curious to meet his roommates, although he was sure they were sleeping.

So he got off the bus.

The Upper Level Northern Dormitory, like all unfamiliar things, looked different at night than it did during the day, but not different enough that Lucas couldn’t find his way back to his designated apartment, especially with the sun just beginning to rise.

There aren’t any windows in the corridor, and it isn’t until he goes to use his phone as a flashlight that he notices it … _eighteen_ missed calls. Fuck. His battery at this point is on its last leg, and he vows to investigate who was calling him just as soon as he gets inside, finds his things, and plugs his phone in.

And then he’s face to face with the door, and realizing that he’s never met this _Ten_ person, and that he doesn’t have a _key_ to get into—

“It’s open, Lucas!”

The voice is identifiable _easily_ , and when he opens the door up there’s a moment of _relief_ at the sight of Jungwoo until … there’s not. His best friend’s eyes are bloodshot, and his face is riddled with _worry_ , even as he smiles, and Lucas knows instantly, _miserably_ , who has been trying to call him all night.

Knows just as instantly – just as _miserably_ , that the pillow and blanket folded neatly on the couch have not been used, and that Jungwoo has been waiting (worrying, crying, pining) for Lucas to get home since _he_ did, which was probably at least _twelve hours_ prior.

“God, Jungwoo, I’m _so sorry_ , I—”

“Hey, no worries!” Jungwoo elates, pulling Lucas into a warm hug much without his consent but entirely with his approval as soon as he’s wrapped up in arms that feel like _home_ , nose pressed into hair that smells like _home_ , and he realizes that maybe not on this campus, or in this apartment, but definitely _always, and always and always in this **person** – _ he is _home_.

“Did you have fun at the party?”

“Wha-How did you--?”

Jungwoo pulls away from the embrace and blinks up at Lucas’ face _adoringly_ and he feels like his heart is breaking, but he doesn’t know why.

“When I came home and realized Mark hadn’t dumped the Youth Center kids here, I figured Kun probably stayed late at work and you must have gotten kidnapped by Tau Nu Pi,”

It was a pretty accurate assessment of what had happened, actually, and Lucas managed a meek ‘yeah’ of agreement before wondering aloud where his bed was and whether Jungwoo minded if he collapsed on it.

“Er – you can take _my_ bed for the night, I don’t mind the couch,” Jungwoo offered instead, biting his lip the way he did when he was trying to avoid giving someone bad news even as he geared up to do exactly that, “You’re sharing a room with Kun, and he wants to uh … well, he wants to _show you around_ , I guess, or something, before you start properly _using_ it – and he did try to stay up and wait for you, he really did, but he’s got a recital in the morning, and it’s so _late_ —”

Too late for a stranger to be waiting up all night. Apparently, not too late for _Jungwoo_ to be waiting up all night. Jungwoo, who Lucas would bet his ass was probably also in that recital. He felt like the world’s biggest dick.

“Shit, I – _fuck._ Jungwoo, you didn’t have to—I’ll take the couch, you sleep in your bed, okay?”

He looked like if he didn’t go to bed soon, he’d be sleeping right there on the floor, whether he intended to or not.

“Sure, alright,” Jungwoo agreed softly, and there was something _imploring_ in his eyes for a moment. His lips parted, tongue darted out as if to form a word and then … nothing. He smiled, a little sadly, and Lucas could see the light of whatever he’d been about to say dying in his eyes, abandoned but unforgotten, “If you need another blanket or … anything at all, I’m just through the door on the right, okay?”

“Okay,”

“Well, goodnight then!”

Something hopeful was evaporating off of Jungwoo’s face, and Lucas felt like he was _disappointing_ him, somehow, although he couldn’t put his finger on all of why. It wasn’t that he’d gotten home so late. Much as he’d love to fall back on the simplicity of that reason, he knew Jungwoo better than that – he knew Jungwoo’s _pain_ better than that, and he knew that whatever pain he was causing was something deeper, harder, aching, and _throbbing_ –

And that … made him think of Johnny Seo, which was odd, when he really focused on it but … not odd _enough_ when he didn’t.

“Goodnight,”

 


	2. Welcome to SMU: Lucas POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter from Lucas' perspective! This one's a little dialogue heavy so sorry if that's something that bothers you, but I really wanted to thicken up these characters a bit more before we start to lurch forward with the plot. Thanks so much to everyone who read and commented on the previous chapter, you are all superstars!! ^^

“-then he says: _it ain’t gonna suck itself._ It’s me, isn’t it? I’m some kind of asshole magnet or something, right?”

Lucas had never woken to a stranger statement in his life, but would quickly learn that such things can be expected when one sleeps in past eleven o’clock in the morning at Student Division N-U. There’s a fairly high chance of company and a fairly _higher_ chance of discovering Ten, as Lucas had that morning, recounting the tragedy of whatever date he’d been on the night before. He didn’t mean to _eavesdrop_ on anyone, but the voices he was hearing weren’t recognizable by any measure, and he was rather inclined to listen to them for at least a minute or two before revealing his own awareness. He was at a disadvantage, being in a strange place (even if he _was_ supposed to consider it home, now) and wasn’t eager to have anyone’s attention pointed in his direction so soon after waking up.

“I think it’s more that people are jerks to you specifically regardless of their actual personalities,” Another voice stated lowly, and Lucas decided he couldn’t help but open his eyes at least a little bit. How many people were _here_ , anyway? Was he finally going to meet the forever enigmatic _Ten_ , or was this _Kun_? Or both?

Sitting up slowly, he turned his head to discover that there were _three_ strangers chatting over coffee and French toast at the kitchen table. He was also mortified to discover that he’d kicked the blanket Jungwoo had left for him off of the couch at some point, leaving his (embarrassingly _loose)_ boxer shorts out in the open for all to see.

Ah yes, _college_.

“Well good morning, sleeping beauty,” The first voice that had spoken greeted endearingly, “Glad to see you actually made it home last night, I thought Jungwoo was going to have an _actual stroke_ …”

Oh, great. Now Lucas felt just as shitty as he had the night before. He couldn’t believe he’d failed his best friend so supremely! At least it was fair to assume that this person lived here, which meant he was two thirds of the way done meeting his roommates, at the very least. Even so, he couldn’t have possibly made a good first impression on Ten _or_ Kun after sending Jungwoo into such distress – hell, he was kind of making a shitty impression on _himself_. He was halfway done sputtering out a frantic apology for worrying them all when the man batted it away, waving his hand as if to say that it really wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh, relax. Why on earth you’d want to attend one of _Johnny Seo’s_ ridiculous events is completely beyond me but at least we did have a general idea of where one could find you if one was so inclined. Which, I assure you – one was _not_ ,” The man drawled, biting out each word with such a supreme combination of cold and hot emotion that it was almost making Lucas’ head hurt.

He had heard the name ‘Johnny Seo’ maybe a dozen times before he’d actually _met_ Johnny Seo, but he’d never heard it said with such … open disapproval. Looking back, he didn’t think he’d heard Johnny Seo’s name associated with any negative emotion _at all_ , which made it almost impressive that this guy managed to snarl it out with such severe disdain. The way _this guy_ said ‘Johnny Seo’ there wasn’t a single ounce of anything _but_ negativity to be had.

“I’m Lucas Wong,” He responded out of a sheer lack of understanding for what else he could possibly say in the face of such blatant and uninhibited antagonism directed towards someone who, at least at a first glance, was a pretty nice guy. He’d admit, though – that there was something … incomplete, about Johnny Seo. Some piece to the puzzle that had been openly absent, even with a full set of teeth smiling with the most charming charisma Lucas had ever seen. There was something of Johnny Seo that was left _behind_ when he packed up all the parts of himself that he was willing to showcase to the world. Johnny spritzed over it with expensive cologne; and while the metaphor was sweetly scented (even on Lucas’ pessimistic nostrils) the fact of the matter was that beneath it all, something was _rotting_. And Lucas had a feeling that when it wasn’t masked – it _smelled_.

“Oh, where are my manners – I’m Ten!” Lucas also had a feeling that Ten would probably not get any joy out of knowing that he and Johnny had introduced themselves exactly the same way.

“That’s Yuta, and this is Sicheng,” He gestured towards the first man and placed a soft kiss against the temple of the second, which neither of them seemed overly pleased with, both scrunching up their noses in a way that was cutely _identical_ , if nothing else.

Yuta’s name sounded familiar, and Lucas realized that Johnny had mentioned it the night before. Wasn’t it Yuta that he’d sent the kids upstairs to? Yes, he thought it was. He might have heard Sicheng’s name in passing as well, but he wasn’t as sure. Still, his next assumption wasn’t exactly a gamble: “You guys are _Tau Nu Pi’s_ right?”

Yuta nodded, eyes twinkling excitedly as if he had just known Lucas would ask him exactly _that_ question and had been preparing to answer it all day, “I pledged my freshman year, and Sichengie joined just last summer,” He stated proudly, “I know it might _seem_ like a lot of fun and games from the outside looking in, but Tau Nu Pi is a fraternity built on strong and important values. Those of us who remember and _adhere_ to them are a little few and far between, but if you do consider pledging, know that you can always count on us if you need any guidance,”

He finished off his pep talk with a wide but obviously _unauthentic_ grin. It was the kind of grin that usually gets followed with questions like ‘who put you up to this?’ or even, ‘why are you smiling like that?’ but Lucas refused to be rude to Yuta, even if he did oversell himself.

“Thanks,” Lucas acknowledged, finding his jeans on the floor beside his feet and slipping gratefully into them, “But I really have no intention of joining a fraternity,”

Ten beamed. Bittersweet. Like he wanted to be ecstatically happy, but didn’t actually believe in things like ecstasy and happiness anymore. Ten was easy to read, because his face was wide open. Yuta was easy to read because his face was wide _shut_. He was uncomfortable, to say the least.

"Well look at that, I may actually be able to _keep_ a roommate this semester!" Ten joked – or didn’t joke. His tone was all humor but his eyes … weren’t.

The man who'd been introduced as Sicheng bit his lip a little bashfully, and Lucas caught on immediately that he'd lived here prior to pledging TNP. How many of them _had_ , he wondered? Ten was a junior, so that meant he’d been through four semesters here already. Had he lost a roommate to Tau Nu Pi each time? Or was it just that the wound was still fresh from the last loss? Mark had definitely commented that he'd been supposed to live here before pledging. Just how many people _had_ stood Ten up in favor of – oh shit, _Mark_!

Lucas was pretty sure that he and his student advisor had never set down an exact time for their meeting today, but he was also pretty sure that whatever time Mark had vaguely suggested, it had definitely been associated with _the morning_ , and according to the green digital numbers on Ten's stove, there were only two minutes of morning left by technicality.

Great. He'd screwed over his longest standing friend the night before and was now screwing over his most promising _new_ friend. Not deliberately, of course. Not deliberate _either_ time, but the mental image of Jungwoo’s bloodshot eyes wouldn’t shake itself out of his mind, and Lucas was wondering if maybe he should reassess whatever part of him had arrived at this university and turned immediately into an insensitive idiot.

"Where the fuck is Doyoung?" Yuta fumed with an overdrawn breath rather abruptly, "I swear he's never late picking us up _anywhere else,_ "

Sicheng cut his eyes towards the other male in a manner that was distinctly significant, but Lucas couldn't really be sure what the significance behind it _was_. What he did know was that he wasn’t extremely excited to be seeing Doyoung (or anyone else in Tau Nu Pi) again. It wasn’t that he had anything _against them_ , more just that thus far they hadn’t done anything but make him feel kind of like a loser. Which was a feeling he was trying to avoid at all costs, if he could manage to do so.

Ten snorted, apparently in response to what Yuta had said, although at first Lucas had thought the lithe man had been reading his mind somehow: "I'd overshoot my time too if I was coming from _next door_ ," He giggled out, cleaning up the syrupy remains of their breakfast and piling it all into the sink haphazardly atop a mountain of dishes too large to have come from just one meal. Lucas stood up properly and walked over with confusion, not having seen the intimidating stack the day before, and noticed a yellow Post-It note stuck to the faucet with neatly concise handwriting on it:

**Please do not use lukewarm water. Dishes were cloudy.**

**I will wash these myself after recital this evening.**

**Do not touch in the interim.**

**-Kun**

Somehow, Lucas wasn't entirely looking forward to sharing a bedroom with this guy. He was even more horrified when after venturing into what could only be their room, he discovered a line of duct tape splitting the space evenly down the middle.

On one side, there was a neatly made bed, a dresser with a few stray items poking out of it, a stack of used text books, and a small TV-Dinner fold out table with a desktop computer sitting on it and a bar stool tucked halfway beneath. It was fairly humble and homey compared to Lucas' own side of the room which seemed like a _prison_. He had a single threadbare mattress, atop a wooden bed frame with three drawers beneath it for storage. The bed was unmade, with his suitcases and duffel bag stacked on top. There was no other furniture.

Well, he wouldn’t use the word _welcoming_ to describe Kun any time in the near future. With that noted, however, he maintained a steely resolve not to form any solid opinions before meeting the man. Jungwoo had never complained about him in any of their correspondence, and from what Lucas understood, it had been Jungwoo that was sharing a room with Kun before he got here.

Oh _right_! That’s where he’d heard Sicheng’s name before. It hadn’t been at the party last night, it had been when Jungwoo first called him to gab about his college experience. Oddly, it had also been one of the _last_ memorable conversations he’d had with Jungwoo, as their communication had begun to falter right along with every other aspect of Lucas’ social life as soon as school properly started back up. Sicheng _had_ lived here, and he’d shared a room with Ten (who Jungwoo had then referred to as Chittaphon) while Jungwoo bunked with Kun.

As Lucas began digging through his clothes for something to wear, he wondered what had made them decide to rearrange after Sicheng pledged and moved out. It could be as simple as a spacing issue, or as complicated as … well, as complicated as whatever was going on between Student Division N-U and Tau Nu Pi. Or, perhaps to over simplify (or perhaps to merely _paraphrase_ ) – whatever was going on between _Johnny and Ten_.

Not really having time to properly unpack, Lucas shot a quick text to Mark apologizing for having just woken up and promising to meet him wherever was convenient just as soon as he was dressed. He threw on the first clean shirt he stumbled into, changing out his boxers for a fresh pair and then stepping into the same jeans he'd had on the day before. Promising himself to shower as soon as he got home, he checked his phone and noted that Mark (much to his chagrin) wanted to meet him at the frat house, which inspired Lucas to bolt back into the living room just in time to see Doyoung entering through the front door. Well, he hadn’t really wanted to see anyone in the frat apart from Mark today, but if he had to go over there he might as well get a lift.

"Can I ride with you guys?" He asked, tugging on one shoe and then the other, "Mark's waiting for me at the house, I don't want to hold him up too much longer. You guys are heading home, yeah?"

"Glad to see someone has respect for other people's time," Yuta murmured passive aggressively, which Doyoung completely ignored, tugging up his turtleneck in what Lucas realized was a very poor attempt at concealing a very large hickey.

Their duplex was positioned rather evenly between the living-quarters for teachers that resided on campus, and a motel that Lucas understood to be notoriously swanky. He figured he had a good idea what Ten had been getting at when he’d earlier mentioned that Doyoung was _next door_. It was weird though. Promiscuity was so much a part of Tau Nu Pi’s reputation that Lucas wouldn’t have thought any of them would go to a motel for their late night excursions when they had an entire _house_ at their disposal. Maybe Doyoung was more private than his fraternity brothers. It would certainly explain his urgency in covering his neck.

“As long as you don’t eat, smoke, or _piss_ in my car, you’re welcome to tag along,” The man answered, shocking Lucas out of his musings as he scrambled to give a hasty nod.

“Yeah, of course… I’d never eat in someone’s car without asking and I don’t smoke,” He didn’t feel that the third condition warranted response. He would learn from Mark in the following weeks that Taeyong had once gone on a drinking binge and done all three things, _in that order_ , which was what prompted Doyoung to forewarn any potential passengers in advance that such behaviors wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Well then assuming you can hold your bladder for what is literally a ten minute drive, welcome aboard,” Doyoung accepted, finally succeeding in getting his turtleneck up enough to cover the majority of the purple stain on his neck and giving Ten a brief wave as he walked out of the door with Yuta, Sicheng, and Lucas hot on his heels.

The car was a sleek imperial blue metallic _BMW 3 Gran Turismo_ with such a perfectly glossed exterior that it looked like it was washed and waxed in three hour intervals. As clean as it was outside, it was messy inside – with various flyers littering the floor, and empty Starbucks cups occupying every single cup holder. Lucas and Yuta had to shove an open backpack and a half-empty gallon of water into the middle seat in order for them to sit comfortably, and that left a blanket and a toolbox with nowhere to go but Lucas’ lap. Thankful for the ride, he didn’t complain, although he couldn’t help but glance at the red fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror with slight disdain.

Doyoung selected a station titled ‘Burlesque’ from the XM Radio, and they drove off to the tones of sultry big band music blaring through the speakers. The leather of the steering wheel was worn down in places where Doyoung’s fingers tapped along with the music, and the rear view camera was a solid black screen that was in absolutely no way helpful. This vehicle must have gotten a _lot_ of use. Lucas was almost tempted to lean forward and check the mileage.

As promised, the ride was just under ten minutes, and they parked cleanly in the driveway. Odd, considering it blocked off the garage, which Lucas assumed had someone else’s car in it. Well, maybe not. He didn’t know much about frat life. Doyoung seemed to have a semi-decent head on his shoulders, so he probably wasn’t trapping anyone in on purpose.

“You can follow me upstairs, Lucas. Mark and I share a room,” Sicheng murmured out quite lowly and Lucas was taken aback by how deep his voice was and then shocked all over again to realize he hadn’t actually heard the man speak _at all_ before that sentence. Nonetheless, he masked his surprise well enough and followed along upstairs, hearing the sound of two distinctly recognizable voices getting louder.

“It _hurts_ Johnny…” Mark Lee was whining unpleasantly, shortly followed by a grunt and a much less manly _squeal_ , “Take it _out_ … Johnny _please_!”

Lucas stopped dead in his tracks, entire face going beet red even as Sicheng continued towards the door, seemingly unfazed. There was absolutely no way that Lucas was going to walk through that door. There was absolutely _no way_ that Lucas was going to _walk through that door_. He’d known Mark Lee for all of _two days_ , and Johnny Seo for an even more brief period of time, so he obviously had no way of knowing whether or not he was justified in his shock and horror to learn that they were intimate with one another, but what he did know was that this was knowledge he _did not want to have_ , and an act that he _did not want to witness_.

“Ah! Mmmf… _Fuck_! Johnny, go _faster_ , I can’t-” Mark sounded gorgeous. Humiliatingly gorgeous; but Lucas had never felt _less_ voyeuristic. His crush on Mark Lee hadn’t even turned twenty-four hours old yet, but it was already firmly enough in place that he actually felt his pulse racing in a confused mix of mild arousal and noticeably _un-_ mild rage. All of it was red, and all of it was _hot_.

“Shhhh, just be _still_ Baby Boy… That’s right … Nice and easy, just let me take care of you,” A voice that was _definitely_ Johnny Seo soothed, and Lucas couldn’t take another second of it, turning sharply on his heel and beginning to walk in the opposite direction, only to have Sicheng take hold of his arm and pull him bodily forward, opening the door to the bedroom as if they weren’t quite obviously interrupting something private and stepping boldly inside with an authority that Lucas himself couldn’t have mustered on his best of days. Of course, it wasn’t _his_ bedroom. The best he could do to shield himself from having to physically _see_ what was happening was closing his eyes as he was hauled over the threshold, so that’s what he did.

“I keep telling you to buy house shoes,” Johnny muttered out with affectionate annoyance, and Lucas was taken from strongly upset to strongly confused in an instant. He wouldn’t pretend to have a _picturesque_ understanding of what sex entailed, but he was pretty sure it didn’t involve slippers. He took a chance and opened his eyes again just as Sicheng crossed the room and began rummaging through the closet in three fluid strides. Lucas stood just inside the door, dumbfounded, as he stared at Johnny Seo, crouched down on the floor with tweezers in hand, slowly pulling a very stubborn splinter out of Mark Lee’s extended foot, “The wood downstairs is way too fucked up for you to walk around without at _least_ putting socks on,”

Oh. They weren’t … oh.

With a loud whine that went _straight_ to Lucas’ balls somehow, Mark’s foot was free of the intrusion, leaving him panting and heaving dramatically in a way that certainly didn’t _deter_ the uncomfortably awkward boner that was trying to grow into existence beneath Lucas’ jeans. All of the shocked _hurt_ that he’d had to bottle up shifted rather abruptly into arousal without even a modicum of Lucas’ consent or permission, and he decided that whatever this abrupt fixation was with Mark Lee, it needed to end before it got _embarrassing_.

“ _Lucas_ ,” Mark breathed out in a manner that elevated the situation in Lucas’ pants to embarrassing _instantly_ , “I was scared you forgot about me,”

Right, as if that was fucking possible.

“No, of course not,” Lucas reassured, gazing at Mark in a way that he really hoped didn’t make it look like he wanted to kiss him even though he was struck with the realization that he really, _really_ did, “How could I forget the world’s best student advisor: Mark Lee?”

Mark smiled wide and Lucas discovered that he would like to see Mark smile just about every second of every day. Wow. This was really ridiculous. He was able to recognize the ridiculousness of it, of course. It wasn’t a complicated thing to know that it was ridiculous to like someone so much when he knew so little about them, but Mark just … touched something in him that he hadn’t known was _touchable_ before. And he did it effortlessly, constantly, and _unintentionally_. 

“Hey there, Cutie Pie. Hot date this early?” It was Johnny who spoke, and thankfully – not to Lucas. He was starting to get the idea that sickly-sweet nicknames were a _thing_ with Johnny, and he didn’t know whether or not he hated it, but he knew he didn’t trust it. Lucas’ father had once told him that a cheating husband calls his wife and his mistress by the same endearments, so as never to slip up and say the other’s name. Ever since Lucas had become privy to this information, he’d taken most forms of verbal affection with a grain of salt.

“Super-hot,” Sicheng (who was, in fact, the _Cutie Pie_ Johnny was addressing) answered, peeling his T-Shirt off and trading it in for a crisp burgundy tank top that he accented sharply with a black blazer, “He’s kind of an ass, but hey – you are what you eat,”

“Gross!” Johnny shuddered, looking absolutely scandalized. He didn’t look half as scandalized as Lucas _felt_ , thankful that the blood was finally draining from his awkwardly excited dick although he wished it wouldn’t relocate itself to his _face_.

Sicheng shrugged, “Don’t act like you’ve never done it,” He leered coyly, and it occurred to Lucas that at this point in one’s life it was probably abnormal _not_ to have had sex. Great. He was _special_.

“ _One time_!” Johnny insisted, “It was a singularly unique situation and I wouldn’t do that shit for literally any other human on the planet so, again, _ew_.”

Lucas had about a split second of time to think that despite his own complete lack of sexual experience, it was clear even to _him_ that Johnny was being wildly inconsiderate to his lovers before he experienced the peculiar sensation of being absolutely positive that his brain had cracked open like an egg and would begin to ooze out of his ears any minute now.

“It’s intimate, I think it’s nice,” Mark drawled, wiggling his toes experimentally as Johnny applied ointment and a Band-Aid to the tiny prick from the splinter. He didn’t seem to _know_ that he was cracking eggs in Lucas’ skull with his words. Probably because normal people didn’t meet each other one day and begin obsessing over one another with unreasonable infatuation immediately afterwards, and Mark (a normal person) had no way of knowing that his new protégé had any interest in his sex life (oral or otherwise) at all. Lucas wondered if the house was built long enough ago that there was any standing chance of him falling directly through the floor.

“Hey, I’m not some prude who thinks ass itself is gross – _love_ a nice ass. Really. It’s just oral sex in _general,_ y’know? I’ve never put my mouth on a vagina at all and I’ve been sleeping with women exclusively for what – three years, now?” Johnny questioned, counting on his fingers like a child. Lucas wondered if he was counting the years or the women. When he saw that he was on the ninth finger and had rounded back over to the first hand to keep counting , he inferred that it couldn’t have been the years.

Sicheng rolled his eyes, and Lucas looked pointedly away from him as he pulled out a jock-strap and began removing his pants and briefs in one pull, “Johnny Seo, you are the most _dense_ idiot I have ever met, and Mark is _right here_ , _”_

Well, that wasn’t nice. Mark, either to credit his maturity or accent his stupidity, didn’t take the bait at all, instead blinking up at Lucas with curiously wide eyes and cocking his head to the side like a puppy, “What about you, Lucas?”

“Um … what?” Of course, he understood the question perfectly. Mark wanted to know _his_ opinion on oral sex. Lucas didn’t want to _give_ his opinion, so he opted to play dumb, which might have worked if no one else was in the room.

“Do you put the mouth you kiss your mother with on other people’s privates?” Johnny clarified, leaving no room for escape.

Lucas could have won against a tomato in a contest for ‘most red,’. He could have lost a separate competition with the same tomato for most sexually versed. He was, in a word: _virginal_. He’d never even been kissed before, except one time Jungwoo had been drunk off his ass on wine coolers and shoved his tongue in Lucas’ mouth back in high school, and they both knew that didn’t really count. He’d certainly never had _oral sex_ , and while he was pretty sure that he was unopposed, he also didn’t want to feign experience that he didn’t have. Good and lasting friendships couldn’t be built on lies, and while Johnny Seo gave off the vibe like everything _about him_ was a lie, Mark Lee did _not_ , and Lucas didn’t want to lie to _Mark Lee_. Or Sicheng, weirdly enough.

“Oh – Erm … Well, the thing is—”

Mark, with the super senses of a _mother_ , stood up and had his hand over Lucas’ mouth just exactly as two of the high school kids from yesterday opened the door. Somehow, Lucas realized, Mark _knew their footsteps_ , and didn’t want them exposed to the heavily adult nature of their conversation. Lucas hadn’t even noticed anyone coming at all, much less put together _who_.

“ _Johnny_ ,” Chenle whined, as soon as he came through the door, “Doyoung won’t take us to get food because we’re already starting late – which is _his_ fault, not ours, and Taeyong won’t let us cook, cause he’s cleaning downstairs, even though everything is _clean already_ , and we’re hungry!”

“He’s _spazzing out_ down there. Can we just order a pizza? _Please_?” Jisung added, frowning with something slightly more off-kilter and less practiced than Chenle’s award winning pout.

Johnny looked at Mark, who still hadn’t removed his hand from Lucas’ mouth (and _fuck_ he was standing so close that Lucas could _smell him_ ) and Mark stared back at Johnny, _hard_. There was some kind of silent conversation occurring, consisting entirely of Johnny making increasingly pleading facial expressions as Mark remained stone cold. Alas, Johnny sighed and turned back to them.

“You know we’re only supposed to be giving you healthy snacks,” He lamented, and Chenle’s pout deepened.

“But we need carbs and sugar for _energy_ ,” Jisung necessitated, “And Taeyong literally put the entire bread box in the deep freezer,”

Lucas was more curious about what the hell was going on with Taeyong downstairs than he was with this conversation, but he didn’t want to be rude, and he didn’t really want Mark’s hand to stop touching him so he made his best attempt at imitating a statue and watched on quietly.  

“No,” Mark said with the conviction of someone who had given the final answer and could not be swayed, “You should be going to bed earlier if you’re tired this early in the day. Jaemin told me you three weren’t in bed until almost _midnight_ ,”

Lucas wondered how the two boys feigned anger at their third counterpart for tattling such a complete and utter _lie_. He’d seen them – all three of them – _at nearly five in the morning_ , and they’d been _on their way out to eat_.

“C’mon, Kiddos. I’ll talk to Taeyong for you and see if we can whip you up something Mark-Approved, okay?” Johnny suggested, rising to accompany them out of the room. Lucas watched them go with even more confusion than he’d had watching them arrive.

“I should probably tell you that I work full time at a Youth Center,” Mark mused, removing his hand from Lucas’ mouth and smiling nervously, “And I do mean _full time_. It’s a 24/7 job, basically – considering no one else _has it_ but me. Well, Kun teaches Magic Tricks to the younger kids, and Ten volunteers as a dance instructor when he has the time, but no one is willing to take on the fourteen and up group for after school care apart from yours truly, so I pretty much have these guys every weekday, and Doyoung tutors Chenle and Jisung on the weekends, but if they know I’m _here_ they don’t usually ask _him_ for anything, cause they’re used to me,”

“They seem pretty comfortable with Johnny,” Lucas pointed out, sitting beside Mark on his bed when the other man sat and hoping that it wasn’t overly intrusive to assume he didn’t mind. He didn’t know what exactly it was that had him experiencing a growing animosity for Johnny, but Mark’s innocent introduction of the Youth Center kids was making it worse.

Johnny, who was supposedly the _best guy ever_ , was knowingly harboring sixteen year olds at his house parties in the wee hours of the morning, despite the fact that Mark could probably _lose his job_ if they got caught. That was just … not what friends were supposed to do for one another. Where did Johnny’s loyalties lie, anyway? With the kids, or with _Mark_? Weren’t fraternities supposed to be all about brotherhood, or some shit? Lucas couldn’t imagine screwing over someone he cared about so thoroughly. What happened to Mark’s job at the Youth Center (which he clearly _loved_ , Lucas could see that in his eyes) when word got out that the students he was supposed to be supervising were partying all night _at his house_?

“ _Everybody’s_ comfortable with Johnny,” Sicheng pointed out, finishing up his look with a dapper pair of burgundy suede oxfords. Lucas was thankful to note that he was also now wearing pants.

“Not Ten,” Lucas countered, and almost didn’t notice the way Sicheng’s fingers froze before he continued with his shoe-laces. It was less a freeze, and more a _flinch_ , he realized. It was a small, almost insignificant glimpse into that missing _piece_ of Johnny Seo, that he was masking the stench of. Sicheng was able to see it,  Lucas concluded. Sicheng could _smell it_.

“What makes you think that?” He asked with what Lucas could tell was mock curiosity. After all, Sicheng clearly _knew_ Ten pretty well. They’d been having breakfast together just that morning. It was all a ruse, a show that was being put on to keep some kind of secret that Lucas was clearly not meant to know. Well, screw the secret (whatever it was) and screw anyone who thought he _cared_ enough to try and dig it up. Lucas hadn’t come prepared with a shovel strong enough to uncover this mess, but he _lived_ with Ten and he refused to pretend he didn’t at least _notice something_.

“It’s obvious by the way Ten talks _about_ Johnny that he doesn’t want to talk _to_ him,” He offered, leaving it there and not assuming that the conversation would make it any farther than it already had.

Mark sighed, sadly, shaking his head as if disappointed, “It’s a shame, y’know. They were _best friends_ in high school – I first met Johnny at a _home game_ for my old basketball team. He was point guard for the opposition, and Ten was right there in the bleachers cheering so loud you’d have thought it was _their school_.  I wish I knew what happened to them…”

Mark could see the problem at its face, but wasn’t picking up the sickly odor of whatever deeper hole had been left uncovered beneath. Lucas rested a hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He could tell his friend was legitimately worried about whatever the gap was between the two upperclassmen, and Lucas was in no position to point out the way that it festered and _stunk_. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any of his business. He’d never witnessed them as anything but what they currently were, so he couldn’t relate to what Mark was going through. What he _could_ do was imagine them all (Mark especially) in basketball shorts and jerseys, and he quickly decided _not_ to do that, because Mark was perfectly exquisite looking right now in his joggers and oversized hoodie, and imagining him in less fabric ( _thinner_ fabric) was unnecessary torture.

“So what Youth Center do you work at?” He probed instead, hoping to change the subject much more seamlessly than he’d actually achieved.

Luckily, it was a topic that seemed to cheer Mark up immediately, “The Neighborhood Community for the Transitional Dream!” He elated with pride, “It’s been _my_ aftercare center since I was old enough to get there by myself, and I started volunteering there with younger kids when I was twelve. They offered me the job full time about three years ago and I love every minute of it, even the more tough stuff,” Mark was smiling _contagiously_ and Lucas found himself smiling back against his will, despite his mind bitterly reminding him that every ounce of joy Mark was experiencing at work could be snatched away immediately at any given moment by Johnny’s actions.

“I can’t imagine maintaining any sort of authority over a bunch of teenagers who’re barely a grade behind me,” Lucas fretted, “They’re practically your _peers_ ,”

“Mark doesn’t really _have_ any authority, and he doesn’t need it,” Sicheng interrupted, winging out his eyeliner flawlessly in the mirror of the small vanity on his side of the room, “The kids at NCT Dream have known him and _respected him_ for their entire lives. They look up to him as a mentor because of who and how he is as a _person_ , not his age – and they’re _terrified_ to ever disappoint him, or taint the way _he sees_ _them_ ,”

Here, Sicheng gave Lucas a very meaningful pause for interpretation, and he understood that this was the reason that everyone _but_ Mark seemed to be in on the fact that the kids were, generally, up to no good. As long as they weren’t in genuine danger, no one wanted to disillusion Mark and have him think of them differently, both for his sake _and_ theirs. So everyone took part in their caretaking, and as a result, everyone took part in their _secrets_.

Essentially, Tau Nu Pi was a fucking shit show. No, it was more like a black hole – sucking up absolutely everything into a state of eternal and unwavering _unknown_. Lucas, like every other person with any sense, _feared_ the unknown. He didn’t want to be scouted by a fraternity that had high schoolers sponsoring their parties by disguising them as fundraisers. He didn’t want to be part of a fraternity that spun lies between its brothers for the sake of protecting their _feelings_ over protecting their _job security_. He didn’t want to be the fly in whatever fucking web Johnny Seo was spinning, and he didn’t want to admit that he couldn’t tell if Mark Lee was a fellow fly or a spider.

Lucas jumped when his thoughts were abruptly scattered by a loud honking sound coming from the front of the house, and Sicheng stood up with a wink, “That’s my date!” He chirped excitedly, waving them a fond farewell and leaving the room.

“Just us now,” Mark whispered softly, and there was a part of Lucas that fully expected (and encouraged) to be bent over the headboard right then and there. Wow. His libido was at a record high, probably due to its lack of functional _use_. Of course, Mark did not make any advance towards him, sexual or otherwise, “Originally I wanted to show you some of the administrative stuff at the school, but their office closes at noon on weekends, so that’s obviously not going to happen,”

Lucas bit his lip, looking down at his shoes guiltily. He had no idea how long Mark had been waiting for him, but he was willing to bet it was a lot longer than he’d been awake. He also had no idea if Mark’s plan for their day together was meant to be a day spent recruiting him or actually showing him around, and the overall uncertainty of every single aspect of the situation had him just a breath below hyperventilation in an instant.

“Hey, relax,” Mark consoled, bringing a hand (callused, but _so warm_ , and so _nice_ ) to his cheek and lifting his face up to make eye contact, “I’m not upset, I cleared my schedule for you, so I ended up with some free time, which is _rare_ , trust me. Now, what I was trying to say is that instead I was thinking we could go shopping,”

If Mark had been asked by Johnny to spend the day with Lucas in order to woo him over to TNP, then it probably didn’t matter whether or not they did something academically productive. But Lucas just … _couldn’t_ let himself think that Mark would take part in manipulating him like that, even if all the signs were pointing towards it.

Yesterday, he’d been assured by at least _two people_ that Johnny Seo was interested in him one way or another, and Lucas was quickly catching on that Johnny Seo was the kind of guy who basically got whatever he wanted. Even if it was _people_.

Maybe he was looking too much into this (the part of him that really just wanted to hang out with Mark literally all day and literally anywhere at all was insisting that he was looking _way_ too much into this) but what was the purpose of his student advisor taking him out to shop? Well, he supposed he could just ask, so he did.

“Shopping?” 

“Ten gave me his credit card like five weeks ago to get you some stuff for your room, but I thought it would be better if we went together, so I’ve been holding onto it,” Mark explained, only serving to further Lucas’ confusion and also igniting a strange sense of protection over Ten that came from nowhere and would likely not get him anywhere.

“You’ve had Ten’s credit card for five _weeks_?”

“One of them, yeah,” Mark nodded, mouth half upturned in what was almost a smile, “M’Pretty sure _Johnny’s_ been holding one of Ten’s credit cards for about five _years_ and the rich bastard hasn’t noticed yet,”

This inspired a sharp jolt of _anger_ in Lucas, and his next words came out a bit more harshly than he’d intended:

“You’re telling me some pampered rich kid has been slumming it in _student housing_ for his entire college career just for shits and giggles? _No one_ has enough money to let someone they don’t even _like_ just spend it at will!”

Mark snorted loudly, not seeming to take Lucas’ anger seriously at all despite the fact that he’d now raised his voice, “I’m telling you some pampered rich kid _owns your building_ and has it listed as _student housing_ because he can’t stand a single day of solitude, is what I’m telling you. Surely you didn’t think your apartment was included in your _tuition_ , right? Half of the students here are townies, the school doesn’t cover that,”

Lucas was still mildly incredulous, and didn’t miss the fact that Mark had entirely neglected to touch on the subject of Johnny being in possession of Ten’s credit card, “That ... is such bullshit. You can’t just leech off of someone because they’re _lonely_ it’s … it’s _fucked up_!”

Mark shrugged, “He really, really doesn’t mind if we use it, okay? He literally gave it to me _for us to shop with it._ As far as the student housing goes, he’s been threatening to tell SMU to fuck off and turn the ground floor into a real _rent-charging_ apartment for ages, but I don’t think he’ll ever go through with it. I reckon he’d keep letting his roommates stay with or without the stipend he’s getting from the school, though,”

“If he can _keep_ a roommate after this damn fraternity sinks their claws in!” Lucas hissed out harshly, aggravated that Mark had again glossed over Johnny’s trespasses for the sake of excusing his own.

Mark’s face was … surprised, as if he hadn’t actually realized when their conversation had turned into an argument, and Lucas felt immediately remorseful. He hadn’t been trying to jab at his new friend, he just understood Ten’s frustration with Tau Nu Pi a little better when seeing it from a more broad perspective. Ten was letting people live with him _free of charge_ , just because he liked _company_ , and they were all abandoning him to live with someone he clearly disliked. That had to suck. Especially considering the fact that Johnny _himself_ used to be close to Ten and they, too, had fallen apart for one reason or another.

It was literally as if his ex-best friend was robbing him of any potential _new_ best friends, but—

“Johnny Seo takes what he wants,” Mark said it just as Lucas was thinking it, so simultaneously to his own mental utterance of the same sentence that it almost startled him, “I’m not proud to say it, and I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s the way things are, and as your student advisor I’d be negligent not to tell you the truth,”

Here it was, the moment where Mark would admit that it was all a cover-up, all a lie, he had no obligation to Lucas and had no interest in being his student advisor beyond scouting him to this shitty, shitty, _shitty_ frat.

“Johnny’s been scouting me for TNP since my junior year of high school,” Mark hummed out, thoughtfully, “Johnny’s the one who scouted _most_ of us, and it’s pretty fair to say that without him, we wouldn’t be here … But he’s not holding us at gunpoint. He’s a great person, and a great _leader_ and he makes us _believe_ in something. Shit, he makes us believe in _ourselves_ ,”

Lucas could tell that Mark was desperate, somehow. Desperate for Lucas to _hear_ him – to _believe_ him. And he did believe him, but that didn’t change anything.

“So Johnny Seo is just a unicorn that shits rainbows and you’re all mindless leprechauns looking for the pot of gold at the end?” He questioned, dryly.

“We’re not looking for it, Lucas – we’re _swimming in it_ , _”_ Mark _elated_ , and his happiness was so genuine that if Lucas wasn’t already feeling betrayed and annoyed by this entire façade, he might have been susceptible to these continuous efforts to recruit him, “Johnny takes _care_ of us – and in ways that most of us haven’t ever been taken care of before,”

This was starting to give Lucas unwanted flashbacks to what he thought he’d been overhearing when he’d first come up the stairs, and he decided that they were long overdue for another subject change. He suspected that until he understood Ten’s animosity towards Johnny in its _entirety_ , he would be harboring his own cautions and close observations. He also suspected that this would result in quite a few abrupt subject changes during his conversations with Mark who was (beautiful, wonderful, magical) one of _them_ , before anything else.

“Mark, I like you a lot,” Lucas admitted, attempting to offer the same genuine honesty that Mark was giving him in return, “Honestly I like you a lot more than I’m _comfortable_ with. I don’t want that to cloud my thinking, and I definitely don’t want that to involve Johnny. _Or_ Ten. Or anyone at all that isn’t you and me. I’m not saying…” He tapered off for a minute, unsure of how to proceed before properly gaining his bearings. He didn’t want to flat out accuse Mark of not really giving a fuck about him, because having only known the guy for twenty-four hours he couldn’t really _expect_ Mark to give a fuck about him – but he also couldn’t handle feeling like Mark never _intended_ to give a fuck about him, and Mark should be aware of that.

“I’m not trying to _proposition_ you, okay? So please don’t take this the wrong way, it’s just. I really, _really_ like you – and for some reason  I kind of _trust_ you, which means it’s pretty easy for me to get _hurt_ by you – so I need us to both be clear right now that joining your frat is _never_ going to be something I want to do; and if you’re … if you’re spending all of this time getting to know me because _Johnny Seo_ asked you to, then you’re _wasting_ my time,”

Mark … laughed. He laughed right in Lucas’ face, and Lucas was close to getting up and walking out of his room, out of his house, and out of his life, because he’d left being openly mocked behind him in high school. He thought he’d left his _insecurities_ behind him in high school, too, but apparently not.

“Lucas, you’re ass backwards on this one,” Mark finally said, a sheer millisecond before Lucas was about to call it a day and make his escape, “Whoever put that in your _head_ is ass backwards, too. I’m not invested in you because Johnny’s invested in you. If anything, Johnny’s invested in you _because I’m invested in you_. Like I said, I don’t have a lot of free time. I cleared my entire schedule to spend time with someone Johnny Seo _himself_ has never heard of, and he decided to see what all the fuss was about and took interest. That’s it. So if you trust me, that’s _great_ – and if you like me _a lot_ , that’s great, too. But Johnny’s _nosiness_ is not the least bit relevant to our friendship. Got it?”

Lucas felt a little bit stupid and a lot like his stomach was going to fall right out of his ass. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he sat still and felt … as if he was _catching his breath_ , somehow. He realized that he’d been starting to _panic_ before Mark had spoken. Not out of fear for his life, but out of that more permanent, _stinky_ fear. Fear of the unknown.

Mark Lee was an unknown that Lucas _wanted_ to know. Desperately.

“Okay,” He breathed out softly, “ _Okay_ ,” He repeated with a little more conviction, meeting Mark’s brown, _brown_ eyes and sighing as the relief that he’d been fighting to resist washed over him. He didn’t _want_ to be comforted by Mark. He didn’t _know_ Mark.. He trusted Mark’s intentions; but intentions weren’t the bulk of what gave birth to actions. Road to hell, and all of that.

“C’mere,” Mark muttered, adjusting his body language to be even more open and inviting than it already was, “I’m serious, c’mon,” He restated when it became clear that Lucas did not plan on following the first instruction.

He seemed to think that Lucas was in need of a hug, and Lucas wasn’t sure that he was wrong, so he gave in and allowed it, scooting close enough that Mark was able to wrap his arms around him for a brief moment that ended much, much too soon for Lucas’ taste.

Mark was smaller than him, both in height and in build. He didn’t take up a lot of physical space, but his presence was _overbearing_. Lucas could understand how he had people jumping through hoops just for the sake of not disappointing him. But, small as he was, hugging him _was_ comforting. Not like a hug from your father, or from a teacher when you scrape your knee – Mark was comforting like a pillow that you clutch and cling to desperately when tears sting at your eyes in the middle of the night, and you don’t know why it hurts but it _hurts_.

It was intimate – _private_ – and then it was over.

“Thank you,” Lucas bit out, clearing his throat in a way that he hoped achieved his goal of masking the sting beginning to burn there, “I think … I _would_ like to go shopping with you, if you’re still up for it,”

“Of course,” Mark replied, maybe in response to shopping, or in response to Lucas’ gratitude, or neither, or both. He couldn’t tell, “Let me just get some shoes on and make sure my kids aren’t downstairs manipulating Doyoung out of house and home,”

They made their way to the living room together in a comfortable silence. Maybe _too_ comfortable, considering they’d just met the day before … and definitely too _silent_ , considering this was a frat house.

The reason for this silence was revealed as soon as the couch came into view, and Lucas smiled as Mark laughed lightly, shaking his head. Doyoung was leaning back with his legs propped up on a coffee table that Lucas could have sworn wasn’t here last night. He was fast asleep, mouth parted slightly open and head tilted over the edge of the sofa. Chenle had somehow managed to curl his entire body up beside him, head tucked beneath Doyoung’s extended arm to rest on his chest – the other of his arms sprawled over Jisung’s torso, as the lanky teen dozed lazily with his cheek pressed into Doyoung’s thigh. They were all tangled together, all asleep.

An Algebra book lay abandoned across Jisung’s chest, and an iPad balanced precariously on the couch arm, the voice of a professor lecturing away to a live online class left dull and unattended.

“Sleepyheads,” Mark muttered fondly, walking over to exit the lecture and close the book properly, moving it onto the table before he retrieved his shoes, “I’m sure they’d claim that with the assistance of pizza they’d be awake right now, hm?”

Lucas bit back a laugh, thinking that perhaps if they hadn’t been out at _five in the morning_ , they’d be awake right now. But that wasn’t his secret to tell.  

“Since Doyoung’s clearly not driving us anywhere, we’re gonna have to ask Kun for a ride to the shopping center, which means we’re actually headed _back_ to N-U,” Mark remarked with a roll of the eye, “Turns out I’ve wasted a bit of your time either way, huh?”

It took skill to make light of a wound so freshly stitched shut, but Lucas didn’t take it personally. It was starting to look more and more like his plans with Mark that day were falling through from beginning to end. There was a part of Lucas that wanted to be opposed to these unexpected developments, but it was heavily outweighed by the part of him that just enjoyed his _time_ with Mark regardless of what they were doing. He felt heard, considered, and _cared for_.

… In a way that he hadn’t been cared for before. Maybe Mark was his personal poison, the chink in his armor, the festering, infected, _rancid_ hole in his chest – maybe Mark was his _Johnny Seo_.

“I take it we’re headed to the shuttle, then?”

The answer to that question was yes, and a blissfully uneventful bus ride later, Lucas was faced with the front door to his ‘home’ for the third time, ever. He reckoned that he’d definitely spent more waking hours at Tau Nu Pi than at N-U, but he would work on changing that. He was developing something of a _friend crush_ on Ten; the urge to be close to the man niggling constantly on Lucas’ mind despite not knowing him well.

One thing he knew Ten and Mark had in common: They made strong first impressions.

He still didn’t have a key, and unlike the first two times he’d been standing here, the door wasn’t unlocked – but Mark _did_ have a key and stepped in with the familiarity that all visitors seemed to have here. Knowing now how much Ten despised being alone, Lucas found this more sweet than strange at this point.

“MARK LEEEEEEEEE!” A voice shouted loudly as soon as they breached the entrance, Lucas smiled to see that Ten was apparently in an ecstatic mood, standing up on his kitchen table with a red solo cup in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, “ _Gross_ , y’guys smell like dog shit … no, no wait, that’s Armani’s _Gio Pour Homme_ – you guys smell like _Johnnyyyyyy ew_!”

Mark laughed, throwing an arm casually over Lucas’ shoulders, and Lucas decided that he could blush just a _little_ since Mark was looking up at Ten, “See? Told you he’s a rich bastard. Sniffing out designer cologne while he’s _drunk off his ass_. How about getting down from the table, Ten?”

“S’true, I’m a rich bass-turd,” Ten slurred, tipping his head back and swallowing down the remainder of whatever he was drinking before throwing the cup across the room. Lucas followed the motion of it, watching it hit Jungwoo in the back of the head and trying not to laugh when he heard his best friend give an indulgent sigh, as if this was not the first time such violence had occurred.

“Bottle’s empty, Dude. I can’t make you another one,” Jungwoo giggled out, picking up the cup and swaying just a little as he brought it over to the trash can. His eyes caught sight of Lucas and he smiled widely, launching himself forward for a hug that was less soft squeezing, and more Jungwoo’s arms hanging onto Lucas for dear life while his weight sagged. Lucas enjoyed the pressure of it, and returned the hug with a soft pat on the back. Jungwoo was always _soft_ , but he was even more affectionate when he was intoxicated, “Love you, Lucas,” He breathed out sweetly, startling Lucas just slightly, but not enough to warrant any genuine concern.

“The _lies and deceit_!” Ten exclaimed, ignoring their exchange entirely. He cupped his hand around his mouth as if to tell a secret, and then loudly whispered in Mark and Lucas’ general direction, “He is lying because he loves me, but since you two aren’t _pussies_ one of you should hand me the uh … the um … what th’fuck am I even drinkin’ right now?”

Mark looked exasperated, and Lucas could understand why. He’d come here looking for a ride, and thus far both of the people they’d encountered were clearly not fit to drive. Still, it wasn’t like they were _entitled_ to a ride, they’d just been hoping for one. He trailed a hand down Jungwoo’s back idly before gently pushing him away, giving what he knew was a rather distracted half smile and ruffling the other male’s head, “Love you too, Buddy. You know if Kun’s around? Me and Mark were trying to get a ride to the mall,”

Jungwoo groaned and collapsed down into the nearest chair, causing the table to shake enough that Ten would have fallen off of it if Mark hadn’t lurched forward to steady him. Lucas, thoroughly shaken by the prospect of witnessing someone fall off of a table, took a seat himself, smiling softly when Jungwoo scooted his chair closer to rest his head in his lap in an obvious show of drunken exhaustion.

“I’ll tell you _this_ ,” Ten began, letting Mark help him down onto the floor as if nothing at all had swayed him and the decision was entirely his own, “Kun’s not gonna like you very much if you start asking for favors before you even meet the poor guy,”

Lucas hadn’t considered that, and frowned in thought. Even wasted, Ten made a good point. It wasn’t cool to start hassling someone to do things for him as soon as they met. Especially considering Kun didn’t exactly give off the most laid back impression.

He discovered about five seconds later that Kun’s impression was completely inaccurate in every way, when the enigmatic man walked into the room, topless, with a crisply creased pair of slacks hanging low on his hips, revealing the band of Calvin Klein underwear and the slightest _hint_ of a happy trail.

“I think I’m done throwing up,” He imparted idly as he strode across the room, “Jungwoo you are _never_ mixing me a drink again, I feel like I’m gonna shit out of my ears – oh hey Mark,” He took a large bottle of water out of the refrigerator and gulped half of it down in one swig, “Oh, Lucas! Good to finally meet you! I’m Kun, and I’m too tipsy to take you anywhere for at least another hour, but you’re free to wait! Are you the person who told Jungwoo it’s cool to pour a whole bottle of tequila into an empty wine box and not tell anybody what it was?”

Mark snorted, finally sitting down himself, on Lucas’ other side, “I think that person was most likely _Taeyong,_ ”

Jungwoo’s head shot up so quickly that it almost hit Lucas in the chin and he began shaking it frantically. Cute. Very cute. But then, Jungwoo had always been a bit of a cute person. His face might have been hard lines, but his features were still gentle. He lived his life with his eyes wide open, and he usually smelled like daffodils, which altogether just gave off a very pleasant and nonthreatening vibe. It was different, though, than the way _Mark_ exuded the same trustworthiness. Jungwoo was home, and safe. Mark had an _allure_. There was a silent promise written across every inch of his skin that he had something to show you, and it would not disappoint. Lucas couldn’t help but find himself comparing the two as they chatted over him, although it made him feel _guilty_ somehow, which was strange.

“N-No I didn’t! I’ve never even _been_ to Tau Nu Pi, how the heck would I know what Taeyong does with his tequila?” Jungwoo vehemently protested, talking to Mark but looking at Ten.

“These hoes _are_ loyal,” Ten affirmed with a large thumbs up, “Fuck Taeyong, and his tequila, and especially fuck his smiling shit-dicked partner in crime, John Doe!”

Lucas expected Mark to defend his brothers, but he didn’t. He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, as if defending Johnny’s honor was something he simply didn’t have enough energy for in that moment. Maybe Lucas had already worn him out on that subject – or maybe Mark just knew that Ten’s offensive blows towards Johnny were more combative than Mark’s defense would ever be able to withstand.

“Wait,” Lucas initiated, just realizing that he hadn’t fully paid attention to the implications of what Jungwoo had so passionately insisted, “You’ve never _been_ to Tau Nu Pi?”

“Course not,” Jungwoo answered with half of a shrug, yawning like a lion, “I mean I’ve been out front, but there’s no reason to go inside. C’mon Lucas, I’m not exactly _fraternity material_ , I’m a walking, breathing, _pin-cushion_ for fuck’s sake,”

Well, that was a good point. It was just … strange. Lucas had spent more time at Tau Nu Pi than he had _here_ , and classes hadn’t even started yet. Jungwoo had been attending this university for an entire _year_ now and he’d never even been inside?

Kun was the one who explained it:

“Don’t take your friendship with Mark for granted, Lucas,” He cautioned, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter and taking another swig of his water, “ _Most people_ haven’t been to the frat house unless it’s for a party, and even then - they don’t let you in at the door unless you’re dressed to the nines and bring alcohol or pay a pretty hefty cover. _We’re_ pretty close to those guys ‘cause we’ve lived with half of them and have … _other_ history with the rest,”

Other history. Like being ex-best friends with the ring-leader of them all, for example.

“I’ve considered burning the house down,” Ten admitted with a pleasant exhale – like it was a fond idea that he daydreamed of often, “But at the end of the day, there’s just no guarantee that Johnny would die in that fire. Safety measures have come a long way since the arsons of our yester years, you know?”

Mark stood up, expression blank of absolutely all emotion and Lucas was impressed that he could mask his upset so well, even if he couldn’t properly cover it up with false contention.

“I should go,” He grunted out, trying and failing to put on an authentic smile for Lucas, “My schedule goes back to normal tomorrow, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

Lucas was starting to feel his anxiety rising again, but he swallowed it down forcefully. _Would_ he see Mark around? Or was that just the polite thing you say to a person when you abruptly leave their apartment to avoid hearing their roommate (landlord?) passionately plot the death of someone you cared about?

“Okay,” Lucas accepted, a little sadly, “I’ll … see you around, then,”

And then he left, and he took a little bit of Lucas with him – but Lucas was a lot better at feigning a good mood than Mark was.

“I’m making weed brownies tomorrow if you wanna get lit and tell me your entire life story,” Kun offered with a smile, “We’re gonna be sharing a room for the next few months, so if you’re crushing on Mark Lee you should let me know now, cause he’s kinda my baby mama,”

Lucas promptly managed to choke on absolutely nothing at all, as Jungwoo sputtered out an answer _for him_.

“Lucas doesn’t have a _crush_ on _Mark_!” His best friend, who apparently did not know him as well as the stranger sitting on the counter across from him argued, “Right, Lucas?”

“I’ve never had a serious crush on anyone,” Lucas half-answered. It wasn’t really a _lie_. He really _hadn’t_ ever had a serious crush until about forty-eight hours ago which was probably why he was so completely and entirely shattered and befuddled by every single aspect of having developed one.

“Me and this lil baby right here,” Ten leaned over the table to pat Jungwoo’s head affectionately, “Are gonna go to our room and sleep the day away, cause if you two spoil-sports didn’t _know_ – day drinking is most fun when paired with midday _napping_ , and since we were both up all night I think it’s about time for phase two,”

Jungwoo gave no argument to this proposition, and traipsed behind Ten to their bedroom groggily, leaving Lucas with a semi-sober Kun, who was still sensibly sipping away at his water.

“So … you’re totally crushing on Mark Lee?”

Lucas faltered, and then groaned, dropping his head onto the table, “I’m gonna need one of those weed brownies before I start revealing my secrets,” He joked, knowing that his open evasion of the question was an answer in and of itself but not caring enough to properly camouflage anything.

“Too drunk to bake, but I’ve got a blunt in my car that I can grab,”

One hour, two changes of clothes, and three hits later, Lucas cared a lot less about the threadbare nature of his mattress with Kun lying next to him on it in absurdly cozy looking footy-pajamas, and was starting to actually, truly, _really_ grasp the fact that this was his room, and he lived here.

“Yeah,” He settled, throwing an arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to see Kun’s face when the other male asked him what the fuck he was yeah-ing at.

“I’m totally crushing on Mark Lee,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! This is actually the last chapter we get that's really about Lucas so I hope you've enjoyed him thus far! Next up we get to dig in a little bit deeper to Mark as a character which means we're going to get a bit more of an intimate look at Tau Nu Pi from the inside, which I know a lot of you are eager to read! I think this fic will probably be updated every two weeks or so, so check back in if you don't have an account and make sure to follow me on tumblr @ftydty_official for exclusive headcanons, bedroom tours and other content!


	3. Absolutely Fully Capable: Mark POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Looks like every two weeks is a good schedule for me! I edited this chapter myself without a second opinion so expect a few more errors than the previous two! Enjoy :)

Mark was used to waking up before the sun, and today was like any other. His alarm, which was on Sicheng’s side of the bedroom in order to ensure that it actually made him _physically rise_ was blaring loudly, and he opened groggy eyes with a sleepy huff of breath, sitting up to go turn it off and then – freezing.

There was a body. Beside him. In his bed.

_When did that happen?_

It felt … _female_ , he realized, when after giving a nervous poke of the finger he was met with the squishy softness that he’d come to associate with naked boob. Shit – how much had he had to drink last night? He remembered getting home after soup kitchen to discover that there was a party, remembered Johnny getting him a beer and a couple of shooters – and _almost_ remembered meeting this girl. He kind of remembered the way her hair smelled anyway, but he didn’t remember her name and he certainly didn’t recall having sex with her. Although, naked as she was in his bed (a quick reach between his thighs revealed that he, too, was without any clothing) the chances were fairly slim that they didn’t at least hook up.

Mark _hated_ anonymous hook ups. He also couldn’t hold his liquor. There was a part of him that wondered if this situation would even have been considered consensual if _he_ was the girl at a party and _she_ was the boy at the frat house. The overwhelming sensation of feeling _dirty_ stayed with him all the way across the room, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when after turning the alarm off he looked back to see that her eyes were open.

“Hmm, you get up early, don’tcha?” The girl questioned, sitting up shamelessly with a flirtatious smile. Mark was really starting to get the feeling that they’d had sex, and that feeling wasn’t a good one.

“Yeah, I have an eight AM class with Professor Kim today,” He muttered, trying not to sound mean or dismissive but also quite thoroughly against the fact that there was a strange woman in his bedroom and in his _bed_ who he may or may not have been inside of a few hours ago.

“ _Everybody_ skips their eight AM’s Mark, why don’t you come back to bed? I’d really love to pick up where we left off,” She winked. He winced.

“Ah – Well. The thing is – um …”

How do you politely explain to someone that you have no idea who they are and have no desire to copulate with them in a sober state?

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” She pouted, “You didn’t even _finish_! Honestly, everyone likes a generous lover, but for me to come _three times_ , and you not at all, I really have to insist that-“

He squeaked. Licked his lips. _Ah_. That was a familiar taste, wasn’t it? Bits and pieces of the night were starting to come back to him as he tore through the closet frantically looking for something to put on. In the time it would take to get rid of her, he’d be running late. Hopefully Doyoung could give him a ride, there was almost no way he’d make it on the bus at this rate.

“I’ll be right back,” He announced abruptly, finding some basketball shorts and shoving his legs into them hurriedly. He was impressed that Sicheng had slept through everything for all of thirty seconds before he realized that the two of them (Mark and the girl) were alone in the room. Hm. Maybe Sicheng had slept over at N-U again.  

Mark didn’t have time to care either way.

He crossed the hall to Doyoung and Jaehyun’s shared bedroom, knocking on the door and accepting the deeply frustrated groan he could hear in response from the other side as an adequate substitute to ‘come in’.

“Fuck!” Mark swore, as soon as his eyes adjusted enough to really get a solid look around the room, finding that (like his own bedroom) it only housed one of its designated inhabitants, “Where’s Doyoung?”

Jaehyun rolled over and put his pillow over his head, muffling out a retort that Mark couldn’t actually understand and didn’t have time to decipher. He didn’t have time for _any of this_ , and he hadn’t even properly looked at a clock yet, but he could tell. He took a moment to weigh his options here. There were a few factors to consider.

First – the girl. She seemed nice enough, but she was very much in the way of him getting up and out of the house. Second – Doyoung, who was in the _same 8 AM class_ , but apparently had left already without him. Third – Jaehyun, who might be able to reassure him that Doyoung had _not_ left him, but didn’t seem to want to be bothered.

“Y’just gonna stand there like an idiot?” Jaehyun grumbled out before Mark could begin piecing together his next move, “Doyoung hasn’t actually spent the night here for at least three weeks, go away m’tryna sleep,”

What the _fuck_? How had Mark not noticed that? He supposed now that he thought about it, he really _hadn’t_ seen Doyoung around in the morning much – but he usually didn’t have time to pay attention to things like that. Hell, he didn’t have time for that _now_.

“…Mark?”

He’d almost forgotten about the girl.

Returning to his own room, he found a pair of jeans and a T-Shirt that he wasn’t entirely sure was clean, and pulled his arms through as the girl (much more slowly and with a bit of an attitude) located her own clothes and dressed herself.

“Sorry, I’m really not trying to be mean,” Mark apologized, head popping out of the top hole, “I’m just really in a hurry. You can just um…”

The next word didn’t come to him until he heard the floorboard directly above his head give a highly audible _squeak_ , and then the answer to his prayers became obvious. Johnny was awake. Johnny was _always_ awake. He’d know what to do.

Mark bounded out of his room again. This time the girl followed him. Well, that couldn’t be helped. Hopefully Johnny wouldn’t be mad. The two of them climbed the attic steps as quickly as was possible with little to no light at what Mark estimated to be about seven thirty in the morning. The clock had said at least three AM the last time he could remember checking it before he was _blackout drunk_ so it was fair to assume that he wasn’t running on much sleep.

“Baby _Boy_!” Johnny drawled, as soon as Mark stepped properly into his room. Johnny had a no knocking needed policy, which was kind of weird – but it made sense for an attic, Mark supposed. The door was all the way down a flight of steps, it was probably hard to hear if someone was knocking.

“Mornin’ Johnny, Mornin’ Taeyong,”

Johnny wasn’t the only one awake. _Still_ awake, Mark was certain. He and Taeyong were seated across from each other on the floor, Taeyong on his stomach in loose fitting sweats and a white tank top, Johnny cross-legged in front of him with a sheet wrapped around his waist, both holding what looked like a peculiar mixture of two entirely different decks of cards. A chessboard was between them. Mark had just enough time to process all of this, but not enough time to be confused by it before Taeyong spoke.

“Who’s this lovely lady you brought us?”

“Wait, huh?” Mark paused, turned around to face the girl – who was now staring quite deliberately in Johnny’s direction, and huffed loudly, “No, no. I didn’t come up here cause of _her_. I’m running late, I wanted to see if Johnny could take me to Professor Kim’s lecture,”

“Got any fives?” Johnny asked, eyes glancing up from his hand long enough to catch Taeyong’s smug shake of the head and lowly muttered ‘go fish,’ before he sighed and redirected his attention to Mark, “I keep telling you, babe. No one _goes_ to Heechul’s class – now if you show up and turn work _in_ , he’s gotta actually _grade it_. Why work your ass off for a seventy percent on a test you could have gotten eighty percent on without ever taking it at all?”

It was true. He and Johnny _had_ discussed this before. Several times, in fact. Professor Kim was not only an alumni of SMU – but also their fraternity brother. He passed _everyone_ in Tau Nu Pi with a nice shiny mid-range decent grade whether or not you showed up. To Mark’s knowledge, he was the only one of his brothers that showed up and actually _participated_.  The others just came for their attendance and didn’t do any work. But, as he’d told Johnny before – there was a reason for it.

“My GPA is already slumming from my other classes, I can’t _get by_ with an eighty percent, I need at least a ninety-five. He can’t give me that high a grade if I don’t show up, and now I’m late … _Please_ , Johnny? It’s  a six minute drive and I’ll give you some cash for gas,”

“Draw four,” Taeyong drawled, “And move my knight to B-6, I can’t reach it. Honestly, Mark – Johnny’s right. The class isn’t _easy_ , kid – you might not even pass it if you let him grade you _fairly_. Doyoung failed it _twice_ before he—”

Johnny cleared his throat loudly, and tilted his head towards the girl, who it seemed Taeyong had forgotten about almost as thoroughly as Mark had. It was a _poorly-kept_ secret that it was nearly impossible to fail Kim’s class if you were in TNP. It wasn’t common knowledge that Doyoung had managed to fail it, and it was even less circulated that he now had the highest grade. Apparently, that was a _real_ secret.

Well, Mark couldn’t be bothered keeping up with what outsiders should and shouldn’t know, he had enough on his plate as it was.

“Draw _six_ ,” Johnny amended, laying down a card, “Also – Uno. Why don’t you come sit with me, Honey?” He gestured to the girl, who looked all _too pleased_ to come and sit next to him. Mark ignored this, and every implication it might have held, with a firm disinterest that was surprisingly easy to conjure.

“You gonna take me or not?”

Hundreds of people had heard through one grape-vine or another that Johnny Seo hated driving with a burning passion. Less than a dozen people knew that he had a car. It was a ratio that worked often in Johnny’s favor, but Mark wasn’t afraid to ask for what he needed when he needed it.

“Of course I’ll take you,” Johnny agreed, standing up and letting the sheet fall to the floor beside where the girl had perched herself next to him. Mark could see her physically restraining herself from turning around to see what was hidden beneath it as Johnny pulled on a pair of track pants. She failed. He sighed.

“I guess she’s staying here, then?”

Taeyong’s eyes lit up, and he scooted around to the other side of the chess board, getting a closer look at the girl and giving a single shouldered shrug, “I’m sure we can find something or another to do with our time,”

“Sharing is caring,” Johnny reminded, absentmindedly, ditching the track pants altogether and putting on a pair of light wash jeans over fresh boxers and digging through his bedsheets for what Mark presumed was last night’s shirt.

“I _always_ share!” Taeyong exclaimed, holding a hand dramatically over his chest and smiling sweetly in Johnny’s direction.

This, Mark knew, was _disturbingly_ true. There had been an apparent incident a couple of years back where Taeyong had mistakenly slept with a girl who Johnny was in an monogamous relationship with. While Johnny admitted that he’d cheated on her (just once!) he’d still been so thoroughly offended by the entire situation that he’d sworn off of relationships entirely and was now in the practice of sleeping around with whoever Taeyong brought home.

Taeyong was in an _open_ relationship. Wide open. Johnny would never claim Taeyong’s girlfriend as his own, but they were definitely both sexually active with her – sometimes without both of them being present, or sometimes together all at once. They shared _everything_. Their bedroom, their sexual partners, their friends, even their _moods_. If one of them was freakishly energetic – both of them were freakishly energetic. If one of them was staring blankly at the wall for hours on end, the other was _right there beside him_. If Taeyong weren’t so much _smaller_ , they’d probably share clothes! If Taeyong weren’t so _straight_ Mark would think they were lovers.

As it was, he couldn’t really put his finger on it. What he did know was that the two of them were the glue holding everyone else around here together, and he’d have been in deep shit if they hadn’t been awake. He was more than willing to cooperate with their _share_ tactics if that meant he could get to class on time.

“Baby Boy,” Johnny murmured idly, putting his watch on and giving Mark a fright when the screen lit up to reveal that it was _7:53_ , “You don’t mind if we have a little fun with her, right?”

“Um – do _I_ get a say in this?” She interrupted, frowning.

“Of course! We’d never try anything we didn’t ask for very nicely. Promise,” Taeyong amended with a deeply dramatic bow. She laughed the entire offense off as if it was nothing.

Mark was going to throw up any second now. Anonymous sex was grungy enough _without_ him feeling like he was some kind of gateway drug opening the doors (legs?) for his one-night-stand to fuck their way through the entire frat. The concept nauseated him in all honesty, but it obviously wasn’t any of his business what a girl whose name he couldn’t even recall did with her morning, “I just want to get to class before Kim shuts the door,”

They were off.

Doyoung’s car was missing as Jaehyun had implied it would be, so Johnny had no issue pulling his 1969 GTO Judge out of the driveway and onto the road. It was more of a _collectors_ car – not really made to get a lot of wear and tear anymore. Johnny had told Mark once that he used to keep a poster of it up in his bedroom when he was little, until he finally was able to have one for himself. The details of this purchase were sketchy at best, and the story of how exactly Johnny had acquired the car was (obviously) an even lesser known truth than the fact that he had one.

“So, how’s everything going with the kids these days?” Johnny asked, breaking cleanly at a stop sign before proceeding through the intersection. He was leaps and bounds more of a safe driver than Doyoung, but Doyoung had the arrogance of someone used to the road, and he could navigate around campus with his eyes shut, most likely.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mark revealed with a disappointed sigh, “I had to take a break from work through the end of the first semester so I can do this stupid play,”

Johnny scowled, “Like … a _theatrical_ play? No shit!”

“Yeah, well I’m in danger of failing Professor Choi’s class but he told me I can do stage crew for extra credit, and I didn’t really have another option,” Mark lamented, giving an unconcerned shrug although in reality the situation was causing him a lot of heartache.

He missed the kids at the youth center _a lot_ – and taking a semester off of working there was bad enough just considering the _financial_ strain, not to mention the energy he used up dealing with stage props and bitchy wannabe actors all evening, “It’s not like I could cut out anything else. I mean – yeah, the kids at Dream like me well enough but they don’t _need_ me as much as the people at the soup kitchen, and basketball is a team effort so that wouldn’t be fair…”

Johnny looked genuinely surprised, “Wait … _Siwon Choi_? How the fuck are you failing Siwon? He’s our brother!”

Mark shrugged. Whatever system Johnny was using to pass his classes without going to them, Mark had missed the memo. He wasn’t the type to ask for handouts, and he wasn’t the type to flash their fraternity colors around for perks. He did his work and he did his best – when his best wasn’t enough, he worked harder.

They rode in relative silence for about two more minutes before Johnny pulled up to the Art and Music lecture hall, reaching over to ruffle Mark’s hair, “Alright, it’s 7:59 – hurry up,”

Mark had no qualms about _hurrying_. He reckoned he _hurried_ through about nine tenths of his day. _Every_ day. There were almost no gaps in his schedule at all once his first class began.

He made it into the room and settled down before Heechul came in at 8:03, which meant that officially – he was on time. Any time before the professor was on time. His unassigned-assigned seat was between Doyoung and Lucas, but only one of them was in class today. Weird.

“Hey Mark,” Lucas waved with a light smile that Mark returned a little distractedly. He was worrying for Doyoung, who usually made a point to beat everyone there each morning.

“Hey, Lucas – did Sicheng crash at your apartment last night?”

“Uh … no? Am I being complete shit at covering for him right now, or do you genuinely not know where he is?”

Mark didn’t get a chance to answer him before Heechul got started handing out their tests, and didn’t get a chance to start working on his test before most of his concerns were eliminated by the sudden appearance of both Doyoung and a bloodshot-eyed Sicheng, who scrambled to his own default spot, on Lucas’ other side with the speed and agility of someone who was fully aware that they were late and fully intended not to have this be acknowledged.

“Professor Kim, could I speak with you a minute?” Doyoung asked from his perch in the doorway, so softly that if the hall wasn’t so silent from their testing efforts, no one would have heard him.

“You’re aware of my office hours, Mr. Kim – please take your seat, you’re late as it is,” The professor answered, tightly. Something was … off. Mark didn’t know what it was, but he knew _that_ it was and he felt worry washing over him again as he watched the normally soft line of Doyoung’s jaw harden as he clenched his teeth.

“ _Heechul_ ,” Doyoung tried again, making deliberate eye contact, “I need to speak with you – urgently,”

For all his efforts, their teacher didn’t budge, leaning into his podium casually and marking a few things off on a sheet of paper in front of him.

“Please tell me you aren’t interrupting my class with something you can’t share publicly?” He raised a brow and his smile was strangely mischievous. Sicheng scoffed in obvious disgust and Mark was speeding down a one-way road in a vehicle that he was not driving and did not understand but was fairly certain was about to crash.

“Fine,” Doyoung cut sharply, “Then _please tell me_ you aren’t _failing_ Sicheng because he couldn’t afford his _fraternity dues_ this semester,”

Mark gasped, and Lucas looked at him as if legitimately surprised by Mark’s shock. Sicheng put his head down on the desk – obviously not wanting any attention directed towards him, which was a moot point as almost every single head was faced either in his direction or Doyoung’s. Their tests all sat neglected in front of them. Mark looked down and tried to concentrate.

“Outside, Dongyoung. _Now_ ,”

Mark had heard Doyoung addressed by his actual name three times – this was the fourth.

He was grateful not to be involved with the silent politics behind Heechul’s class, and even more grateful when after looking over his test he could confidently predict that he’d pass it. Probably not with the grade he needed, but maybe there was an opportunity for extra credit…

“This is exactly why I’m switching out of this fucking class,” Lucas muttered, shaking his head as he finished off his own test, bringing it up to the front and setting it on Heechul’s desk. Their professor never returned, but raised voices could faintly be heard down the hall. Mark didn’t know Doyoung had the _gall_ to go head to head with a member of the staff like this, but he was more worried about Sicheng as it was.

Lucas, it seemed, wasn’t done complaining: “Kim’s reputation precedes him and it’s _not_ a good one. Whose cock is he sucking to keep the job, anyway? He’s such a piece of shit,”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Sicheng muttered with an exhausted sigh, lifting his head to reveal a fresh trail of tear stains on his cheeks, eyes even more red than when he’d come in, “Whose cock he’s sucking, that is. But he keeps his _job_ the same way every other corrupt biased jerk does – he’s the Ace on his line for SMU’s _first chapter_ of Tau Nu Pi. The frat’s much older than the University, you know – Lee Soo Man was pushing for SMU to have a chapter here as soon as he first got hired to _teach_. That couldn’t have happened without the original thirteen brothers on line. They’re TNP _royalty_ , and the fucker who ordained them is now chairman of the school’s fucking board. They do what the hell they want and will continue to do so until Soo Man retires or dies, I figure,”

Mark was slightly embarrassed by his own lack of knowledge pertaining to his fraternity’s history. It was clear that Sicheng was much more adept at remembering this kind of stuff than he was, but that really wasn’t a surprise, all things considered.

“It’s still not fair of him to fail you over your frat dues, though,” He pointed out, involving himself with the conversation despite the fact that he hadn’t actually finished his test yet, “But uh … if you need help – paying them, I mean – I can pick up some extra hours just as soon as I’m back at work, I’m sure between the two of us we can come up with-”

“That’s _stupid_!” Lucas interrupted rather abruptly, “The Youth Center isn’t even the kind of job where you can pick up extra hours, and besides that – we’re paying _tuition_ to attend this school, and it’s not _cheap_ by any stretch of the imagination! You can’t just _fail a class_ because of an extra financial responsibility that any other teacher wouldn’t even _know about_!”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Sicheng iterated, bluntly, “On an unrelated note – Mark, why do you smell like a brothel?”

Something about Lucas’ face showed that he would very much not like to know the answer to that question but unfortunately, it wasn’t Lucas that had asked.

“I may or may not have had anonymous sex with a girl from the party last night – and I’m not like … trying to be cool or mysterious. I _literally_ don’t know. She was naked in our room when I woke up? And so was _I_ so we _probably_ hooked up? I mean there was definitely some foreplay but I dunno if we went-“

“Did anyone ask for this much detail?” Lucas hissed, “Forgive me for my _attitude_ , but my patience is a little low to be hearing about your wild fraternity sex-capades when we are literally sitting in the lecture hall of a man who is _passing your entire household_ based on your abilities to be lazy promiscuous dick bags,”

Mark wouldn’t pretend that his feelings weren’t hurt, although it did confuse him slightly when after frowning and leaning back in his seat, silently, Lucas’ harshness seemed to falter. Honestly, this kid needed to make up his fucking mind already. Mark felt like every single time he saw Lucas (which was frequent, they had three classes together) the other male was either singing his praises and forgiving him all trespasses or cussing him out. There was no in between.

Mark was a creature that lived entirely in a world of in between. Lucas’ constant pendulum-like vacillation left him shell-shocked and _confused_. In the month and a half that they’d now known each other, several opposing facts became clear: Lucas _liked him_ , but was mean to him. Regularly. Lucas was _mean to him_ but lost his entire shit if anyone else tried to speak of him poorly. Any time Mark mentioned his dating life, or his fraternity responsibilities, he was faced with the unforgiving icy _jab_ of Lucas’ cold shoulder. Any time he talked about _anything else_ Lucas hung on his every word.

He was too busy and too tired to be dealing with a Kindergarten level crush.

“You switched this elective to Hip-Hop Through the Ages, right?” Mark asked, several minutes later when his test was finished. Lucas nodded, wordlessly, “It’s a tricky room to find with just the map, I’ll meet you at N-U half an hour before the class starts tomorrow and walk you over,”

Mark refused to abandon Lucas as his student advisor, despite any sour emotions he may be harboring presently. The obviousness of this was clear in his words, and Lucas looked pitifully crestfallen, which had Sicheng shaking his head in obvious disappointment.

“I’m sorry for … all of that,” Lucas murmured when Mark stood up to go up front and turn his test in. Heechul was obviously not coming back.

“Yeah, I know,” He responded, giving Lucas a warm smile that he hoped was as empathetic as he felt. And he _did_ empathize, somewhat. Not with the blatantly obvious and _juvenile_ crush that Lucas so clearly had on him, but with the process of wanting to be close to someone who, despite your best efforts, you just _didn’t know_ well. Mark had gone through the same thing with Taeyong, once upon a time. It wasn’t easy to be a summer pledge – no one showed the same reverence to a high school kid, even if they had technically graduated already. Taeyong had been welcoming, and sweet, and … entirely inhuman and impossible to build a genuine relationship with.

A single conversation with Johnny had squashed the entire issue, and bit by bit, they’d become good friends. Lucas didn’t have a Johnny at his disposal to solve all of his problems for him. _Sicheng_ , on the other hand…

“Let’s talk to Johnny about getting your dues excused while we figure out the situation with Kim, yeah?” Mark suggested, receiving a weary nod for his effort and offering yet another –mildly more authentic – smile, “He’ll work it all out for you, so don’t worry about anything, okay?”

Sicheng did his best to smile and nod in return, and that was really all Mark could ask for. He was already running late to his next lecture. Luckily, it was only down the hall.

Three hours later, with his morning classes out of the way, he caught the shuttle across campus to N-U to see if he could enlist any financial help from Ten before having to bring Sicheng’s situation to Johnny. Ten was rarely against the idea of giving away free money to his close friends – but entirely against the idea of his money going towards Tau Nu Pi in any way, shape, or form. So, it would take some face-to-face persuasion at the very least.

“The transition is still sloppy between the Pas de Chat and the Jeté, but it looks too percussive without the Retiré in between them and reaches too far into Ballet to keep the Contemporary Motif present through that part of the piece if you keep it, so we’re gonna have to find another transitional movement that can fit into that same four-count. Maybe a tumble? Will that translate well for both of you?”

It wasn’t Ten speaking, but Ten’s groan was answer enough that he was being spoken _to_. Mark entered silently and tried not to interrupt, making his way over to the kitchen table and sitting patiently as Ten spoke in low tones to the soft voice that was blaring quite deceptively _loudly_ through Ten’s speakerphone.

“I mean … _I_ can execute it that way without an issue,” Ten admitted, gesturing with a single hand that he saw Mark and would address his presence shortly, “But Taeyong doesn’t have any background in ballet, _or_ contemporary, slapping a tumble in there might not have him ready to be back on his toes within the same measure, and if he doesn’t get up fast enough that’ll look a fuck of a lot worse for our grade than diverting from the Motif,”

Mark was impressed with his own ability to follow the conversation, but didn’t bother to continue doing so as it wrapped up, opting instead to help himself to a bowl of cereal – his first meal of the day. At noon.

“Y’know,” He muffled around a mouth full of cheerios when Ten finally came and sat across from him, “Speaking to Taemin on the phone, he’d never think you have a poster of him bigger than his actual body hanging in your living room,”

“I _don’t_ ,” Ten reminded him, bitterly, lifting a hand to point to the obvious rectangle of clean paint where the poster used to hang, “I gave it to you to get it signed _two months ago_ , and haven’t gotten it back yet,”

Mark shrugged, “Gotta wait for him to show up to the house before I can get him to sign it, he hasn’t been by much since he launched his solo album according to – my uh, sources,” According to Johnny, he meant. A name that would open up a larger can of worms than Mark intended to repackage.

Ten gave a nonchalant shrug as if it wasn’t that important – like he always did. Which was why Mark assumed it wasn’t that important, “You get paired with Taeyong for your midterm in Contemporary Choreography again?” Mark asked when it was clear that Ten wasn’t about to speak any further.

“ _Again_ ,” Ten confirmed, “And he convinced Taemin to do the Choreo for his part of the piece, _again_ – which means that it’s going to be above his skill level _again_ , and we are going to fail our midterm when he can’t perform it. Again. Then I’ll get to take the class for the _third time_ , despite the fact that I should have passed it the _first_ time,”

Mark didn’t think Ten was in the mood to be asked for money, especially for fraternity dues. Well. At least he’d gotten some food out of the visit, all things aside. He also liked Ten’s company quite a lot when he wasn’t bitching about Tau Nu Pi, so there was that.

“When’s it due?” He asked, bringing his bowl up to his mouth and slurping the milk down loudly.

“The fifteenth,” Ten groaned.

“Of October?”

“Yeah,”

Mark’s eyes widened, “Shit, man. That’s in three days,”

Ten didn’t look overly impressed with Mark’s addition skills. He didn’t blame him.

“Yeah, plenty of time for yours truly – a _dance major_ , to learn a dance that I _helped Choreograph_. Definitely _not_ enough time for Taeyong to do the same. It’s a practical exam graded on the performance quality and he’s gonna fuck it up and we’re gonna fail,”

Ten was the kind of pessimist that said everything with such an intellectual tone that it made him seem like a realist. Mark hadn’t known what any of that meant when Kun had first pointed it out until Johnny explained it to him, but he was starting to get it. Basically – Ten was the kind of person who was always feeling shitty about something and always had you convinced that it wasn’t actually because his outlook on life as a whole was shitty.

“Taeyong dances really well though, even if he’s not a dance major,” Mark offered, not knowing what else to give besides his own unwavering _optimism_. It was true. Taeyong was a senior at a performing arts university that insisted on pursuing every creative avenue as part of its core curriculum. They were _all_ decent dancers at the very least. Good enough to learn complex choreography, anyway. 

“He’s a fucking lyricist,” Ten scathed, “How much farther from being a dancer _could he be_?”

Johnny had once told Mark that when Ten was determined to feel badly about something it was impossible for him to feel any other way about it unless he came to that decision on his own. It amazed Mark how well Johnny seemed to _know_ Ten despite the nearly three years they’d now been feuding. Then again, Mark suspected that Johnny was not entirely aware of the feud. While Ten would easily claim that Johnny Seo was the bane of his existence, Johnny would easily tell anyone who asked that Ten was his best friend.

Complicated.

“I can talk to him about it, if that would help you,” Mark offered, mentally scanning through his calendar and wondering where he could pencil in a serious conversation with Taeyong. When he left here he had one more class, and then had to head straight to the set of the play – then basketball practice. After that, he had just enough time for a quick shower before soup kitchen, and could possibly talk to Taeyong for twenty minutes or so if he hurried home before his study session on Skype instead of stopping back at his parents’ house to pick up his clean laundry. He could make the jeans under his bed last one more day… he’d just have to stay up an extra hour to finish that essay for Performance Presentation.

“You’d really do that?” Ten asked, smiling sweetly. Moments like this were what made everything _worth it_ to Mark. The amount of times in a day that Mark was asked, ‘Really?’ and able to confidently answer:

“Yeah, no problem at all!” He’d manage. He always did.

He was just getting up to leave when the door opened, and he blinked in genuine shock at who entered. It was … Jaemin? And Jeno? And … all of them. All of his kids were walking in the door, with Lucas trailing behind them like a sheep herding dog.

Chenle _screeched_ , jumping full force into Mark’s arms and nearly blowing his eardrums.

“We _miss you_!” Renjun butted in, hugging Mark around his waist despite the fact that he had his arms full of bouncing blond. Ten seconds later, he fell over onto the floor as they _piled on him_ , all excitedly talking at once about how happy they were to see him after a month of absence.

Mark was happy to see them too. His chest _swelled_ with it, and he leaned back into Ten’s plush shag rug, completely content beneath the massive congregation of boys.

“Did Lucas steal your job?” Jisung whispered, looking over at Lucas distrustfully, “He _said_ he didn’t but I never believed him,”

“No, of course not,” Mark answered, completely unaware that Lucas even _had_ his old job, “What would give you an idea like that, Jisungie?”

It was a whining Chenle who answered, “The lady at the youth center said you were gonna be _gone_ till _Christmas_! And when we came over here to ask Ten if we could still do our homework here after school, Lucas just _took us over_!”

It was wailed out as if it was the tragedy to befall all tragedies. Mark, adversely, saw it as a miracle. He had been trying (and _failing_ ) not to think about what would become of the high schoolers without his supervision. The youth center was underpaid, understaffed, and _unconcerned_ when it came to their fourteen and up age bracket. When Mark had requested the remainder of the semester off, they’d allowed him to do so without any apparent intention of obtaining a replacement.

To discover that Lucas, after knowing him for only three weeks, had realized the depth of the situation and just … stepped in to resolve it … without even _telling Mark_ … wow. That was just … wow. He respected the fuck out of that. He _appreciated_ the fuck out of that.

“Sounds like you guys are in safe and capable hands, to me,” Mark stated, gazing over Jeno’s head and catching Lucas’ eye long enough for the other male to be entirely sure that the beaming smile Mark was sending in his direction was, in fact, intended for him. Lucas blushed all the way down to his collar bones. _Cute_.

“I couldn’t just … Well … _Someone_ had to step in and it’s not like I have any extracurricular activities,” Lucas explained, awkwardly, “I’m really _not_ trying to steal your job, Mark – as soon as you’re ready to come back its all yours. It’s just these guys can get into so much _trouble_ on their own, what with-”

“Thank you, Lucas,” Mark interrupted, wrestling his way back onto his feet with Chenle still wrapped determinedly around his right leg like a Koala, “You have no _idea_ how much easier it’s gonna be to sleep at night knowing they’re with someone I trust,”

Lucas looked surprised to learn that Mark trusted him. Which, all things considered, was kind of weird. He tried to be a good student advisor even though he didn’t have a lot of free time – tried to be a good _friend_ , even though it was so apparent that Lucas was _pining_ over him, which made communication difficult. If he knew one thing about Lucas Wong though – it was that he had a strong and infallible sense of _morality_. It was his strongest and _weakest_ point, but it was constant. Lucas knew what he thought was right and what he thought was wrong and refused to do the wrong thing. He also had a tendency to mouth off when he thought _others_ were doing the wrong thing, but that wasn’t so strange around here. Johnny and Doyoung were the same way, as was Jaehyun when he cared enough to speak his mind.

“You should know,” Lucas mentioned, “Haechan hasn’t been around at all since you left. I think he’s taking it a little harder than the others,”

Ironically, Donghyuck was the only one of the kids that Mark had spent time with recently. He wagered the pros and cons of alleviating Lucas’ concern in the face of pissing Ten off after he’d worked so hard at cheering him up. Deciding that Lucas, in that moment, was the slightly more important person to address, Mark sighed.

“Johnny’s grooming Donghyuck to pledge this summer,” He murmured out, almost too lowly for any of them to even hear it, “He’s at the house a lot of the time, or out shadowing me when I’m handling frat business,”

“For _fuck’s sake_ ,” Ten exclaimed, and Mark winced – having expected _exactly_ this reaction. Lucas didn’t look overly pleased either, but at least he wasn’t cussing, “It’s _October_ – can’t he keep his possessive claws out of innocent people until it’s at least _close_ to summer?”

Mark wasn’t at liberty to explain to Ten why it was in Donghyuck’s favor to be scouted early. Their fraternity secrets were their fraternity secrets, and as close as he was to the guys at N-U, they weren’t his frat brothers. The truth of the matter was that if Donghyuck pledged with the fall line, he’d be _hazed_ with the fall line. Providing his service hours now, before even finishing high school, allowed him to avoid that process in its _entirety_.

Additionally, if he got all of his precognizant requirements completed during the school year, he would be allowed room and board at the frat house _through the summer_ , which was important considering his parents would be traveling without him and he couldn’t stay at home.

These things were all told to Johnny in _confidence_ , and passed on to the rest of them for consideration when Donghyuck had first incited an interest in pledging. While Mark liked to hope that perhaps knowing the full story would help to soothe Ten’s wrath, it just wasn’t his story to tell.

“Johnny wants to help him, not hurt him,” He explained, not going into any more depth than that.

“I wonder if _I’ll_ be a summer pledge,” Chenle mused, getting up and plopping back down on the couch. Mark was late to class. Luckily, it wasn’t a class with mandatory attendance. He could skip today and be alright tomorrow, “You guys only allow _one_ , right? I think I’d rather be on line with everybody else like Taeyong… but then again, _Johnny_ was a summer pledge,”

“Yeah, and he was shitty all damn summer,” Ten alleged, crossing his arms over his chest with annoyance, “I have no idea what you even _see_ in Tau Nu Pi, Chenle – their values don’t even align with your morals,”

Chenle batted his hand dismissively, “Talent, novelty, and pride? That’s _all me_!”

“It’s all things you’ve already _got_ , not things you need to spend the rest of your life striving for with a bunch of misguided idiots who can barely scramble together one of the three on a good day,” Ten complained, “You know who has talent, novelty and pride in buckets? Jungwoo. Y’know who else? Kun. Y’know what they do with it? Study their asses off, excel at everything, and live _right here_ with their best friend. Not cheat their way through college for as long as possible then end up so academically defunct that the best job they can get is teaching the same shitty losers they once were. Tau Nu Pi is propaganda and Johnny Seo is a fuckin’ trap,”

Lucas cut his eyes to Mark worriedly, as if he was afraid Mark was going to leave because of Ten’s impassioned speech. Most days  he would have, if he was being honest. Today he was too happy to be seeing his kids again to leave over something as miniscule as Ten’s unyielding aggression towards TNP. Besides, at the core of what Ten was saying, he was kind of _right_. Fraternities were intended to build community and help people who _struggled_ with their values on their own. Chenle was already shining much too brightly to ever need a resource like Tau Nu Pi – he just couldn’t see it in himself.

But, pledging had been his dream for far too long for Mark to tell him that it was unnecessary, and he’d love to see the little rascal around if he really did pledge in a couple of years.

“Ten,” Mark began wearily, “Why _do you_ hate Johnny so much?”

“What do you mean?” Ten asked, lifting up a can of sparkling water and sipping it daintily, “What’s not to hate?”

“Well,” Mark pointed out, “He helps everyone with everything that he can, and he’s really sweet to everybody he talks to – including _you_ , and he cares a lot about people, and supports people through their ups and downs no matter what,”

Ten nodded along, agreeably, “That’s true, but I’m still not really understanding your question,”

“I’m asking why despite everything he does to help people, you _despise him_ ,” Mark attempted to clarify.

“Because he’s despicable,” Ten answered plainly.

Mark huffed. Lucas laughed and tried to hide it behind his hand.

“How do you look at all of that _good_ and see only _bad_?”

Ten shrugged, “Johnny Seo is a corrupt, evil, flawed abortion,” He explained with an unerringly charming smile, “So, I treat him like one,”

“He’s so nice, though! He texts  you good morning, _every morning_ ,” Mark pointed out, knowing this to be true. There was a literal _alarm_ on Johnny’s phone to ensure that he never forgot a single day.

“Yeah, and I text him back ‘fuck off,’ _every morning_ , and he won’t stop. That’s _nice_ to you? If I was a fifteen year old girl and he was a forty year old man, would that be _nice_?” Ten raised an eyebrow.

“Wait, why not just block him?” Lucas asked, and Ten rolled his eyes.

“That’s beside the point, Lucas. Listen, Mark – if you choose to worship the ground Johnny walks on, that’s perfectly fine. You have every right to do so. I, myself, will be anxiously awaiting his demise,”

Mark was pretty sure he heard a muffled ‘who even _says_ that?’ from the general direction of either Jeno or Jaemin, but he wasn’t sure which of them had spoken.

“Fine. You’re clearly not gonna tell me what he did so never mind then,” He allowed with a reluctant shrug, “I’m not gonna make you uncomfortable in your own home – but I _do_ wanna talk about it at some point,” He fixed Ten with what he hoped was a firm stare. Ten stared back at him evenly. Lucas snickered.

“Is something _funny_?” Mark asked, exasperated.

Lucas answered him with a smile, “It’s just that me and Ten had this exact conversation like four weeks ago, and I thought he was just being bitchy and evasive cause he was drunk, but obviously – that’s not the case,”

“I’m not being bitchy _or_ evasive,” Ten barked out, “I think Johnny Seo is a piece of shit because _he’s a piece of shit_. What’s so complicated about that?”

Mark sighed. He was clearly not going to get an actual answer out of Ten any time soon. His best bet was to ask Johnny, but he was worried that he might be making Johnny aware of a situation that Johnny didn’t perceive as nearly as aggressive as it actually _was_. Mark couldn’t stand it if he was the one who broke Johnny’s heart like that – and realizing that Ten really _did_ hate him, and that it wasn’t a joke or a game, really would _shatter him_ , in a way that even Ten himself might not have realized.

Well, that would play out however it would play out. In the meantime … well, in the meantime Mark didn’t _have time_. He didn’t have time for any of this and even having skipped one class he still needed to get going.

“I’ve gotta head out,” He said, apologetically. Really, _really_ apologetically because he didn’t want to leave his little dreamies yet, and he still didn’t feel like he’d thanked Lucas properly, but … life demanded to be lived, and lived _abundantly_. If he intended to keep holding it together successfully, that took effort.

It took effort every step towards the door, with Chenle trying to physically _tug_ him back onto the couch. It took effort to shut the door _behind_ him when he could hear Lucas and Ten laughing together on the other side of it, without a care in the world. It took effort to drag himself to his next class, the set of the play, basketball practice, soup kitchen, study hall – back _home_.

It took effort to get Johnny and Sicheng to sit down together when Sicheng needed the help but didn’t want to ask for it. It took effort to get Taeyong to admit that he needed to modify the choreography Taemin had designed for him, despite its genius, to accommodate for his own abilities.

It took effort. It took _time_.

But at the end of the day, exhausted, sprawled across the bed and listening to the sound of Sicheng sleeping peacefully across the room, reading the elated ‘thank youuuuuuuu ~ !!!!!!!’ text from Ten, and rolling over to see the picture kept on his end table, of himself and Donghyuck when they were in middle school dreaming of a future at _this school_ and in _this frat_ together as _real brothers_ –

… it was worth it. Every single bit. Every single time. It was _worth it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up we have another Mark chapter, but a bit more Johnny focussed (Yay!) Thank you SO MUCH to every single person who is reading this - especially those of you who comment. It really makes my day :')


	4. Tau Nu Pi: Mark POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me an extra week to update, sorry! I'll try to get the next one out in a week instead of two weeks to get us back on schedule!

The moment Mark woke up that morning he already could tell he was late. He wouldn’t pretend to be someone who had a remarkable sense of keeping time, but he _could_ tell that he’d gotten too much rest. He’d been up doing homework with his Skype study group the night before until nearly sunrise. There was no way he could be this rested unless he’d slept through his 6:15 alarm, and when a quick glance at the glow of the digital clock beside his bed revealed that it was 7:30 he almost rolled over and died.

He had to be in class, seated, before the door was shut and locked … in thirty minutes. 

After having discussed his shock and horror at the prospect of waking up beside a stranger (again) with Johnny and Taeyong (who both _understood_ much to everyone else who had witnessed the conversation’s genuine surprise) he had been assigned a _guard_ overnight. When Taeyong had suggested a guard dog, the concept had been immediately vetoed by Sicheng who pointed out that Mark didn’t have the time to care for the animal and that if it existed in their bedroom without proper care it would be a nuisance.

A valid point.

It was Johnny who had suggested a guard _pledge_. Immediately afterwards, it was Jaehyun who reminded him that they had not yet acquired a fall line beyond the ‘prospective’ pledge contract they were secretly drawing up on Lucas Wong, and did not have the funding to _maintain_ a fall line unless that ‘prospect’ became a guarantee. Which was, in Mark’s opinion, unlikely.

Thus, it was _Donghyuck_ that curled tighter into Mark’s chest when he tried to get out of bed and told him to go back to sleep. His best friend for as long as he could remember – now tasked with the duty of defending his honor from wayward wanderers in the night. Donghyuck had thought it was _hilarious_ when he’d been appointed the task, but he still took it pretty seriously, monitoring Mark’s drinks, escorting him to bed, and on nights like last night, when Mark wasn’t headed to sleep until after the buses stopped running – laying down beside him and dozing peacefully in his arms.

It was a welcomed _relief_ to wake up thoroughly wrapped up in a person who he felt only warm and platonic emotions towards, even if he _was_ running late.

“I can’t go back to sleep, Hyuckie,” Mark argued, giggling as persistent arms tightened around his waist, “Seriously, it’s 7:30 – I’ll be late,”

Donghyuck’s response was muffled by Mark’s chest, and he pulled back far enough for the younger male to repeat himself more clearly:

“I _said_ , Sicheng emailed  your teachers and got you out of all of your classes for the day when he got home at four and heard that you were still awake – and before you start bitching, it’s an excused absence. Apparently you have community service duties with Johnny,”

Mark had nothing of the sort. He had exceeded the required hours of community service for high school in abundance every single year, and college had no such requirement; but if it did, he’d already be overachieving. He also thoroughly doubted that Johnny planned on spending his day serving the community – in the name of Tau Nu Pi or otherwise.

“No I _don’t_ , and I have soup kitchen tonight and-”

“You have soup kitchen _every_ night, and Taeil said he’d go for you tonight. Give it up, Mark – you’ve got a full twenty-four hours to just _relax_ so use it,”

Well. He couldn’t really argue with that. He could, if he insisted on it, but knowing Donghyuck that was a road that lead to a dead end, and he didn’t see a point in expending any energy on it when he could just throw a leg over his best friend and do as he was told.

“… _I_ do have to go to school, though.”

Fucker. Mark felt comfortable and safe and one hundred percent against any suggestion that he be left cold and alone in his bed but ten minutes of severe wiggling and elbow jabbing later – he was exactly that.

He only managed about two more hours of sleep before the house seemed to be waking up around him. Of course. Everyone skipped their 8AM’s but most of them did have classes starting around 11. Mark wondered if it was really a break at all if he had to spend the entire day by himself alone in the house so he wasn’t spotted _not_ doing community service. Ugh. This was going to be as unfulfilling as staying home sick from elementary school, he just knew it.

Figuring that it would at least make him feel better to be put to use somehow, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen in hopes of preparing everyone some breakfast. When he got there, he paused, not realizing that the task would have already been taken on by someone else.

“Morning!” Taeyong chirped, pleasantly – running a spatula through some eggs that he was scrambling quickly before grabbing tongs to flip the bacon.

“Do you … usually cook breakfast?” Mark asked in lieu of ‘good morning’ setting himself down at the table and observing Taeyong’s automatic motions for long enough to know that if he had attempted to accomplish such a feat himself he’d surely have failed. Cracking eggs wasn’t a strong point of his. Cooking them was even harder.

Mark liked to stick to more creative talents – like fitting more hours into a day than was physically possible and coming up with freestyle raps with or without a beat or subject in mind. These were not the things good chefs were made of.

“If I’m not too inebriated, yeah,” Taeyong answered with a sleepy yawn, stretching his arms above his head to reveal a cutely soft patch of stomach. Mark smiled.

“Johnny usually helps me out but he’s brooding cause Ten apparently didn’t respond to his ‘good morning’ text yet and he’s usually up by now,”

For some reason, this made Mark feel guilty. It had been just under two weeks since he’d mentioned the existence of this daily exchange to Ten himself, and he was a little worried that his (or Lucas’) words were negatively influential. 

“I am _not_ brooding!” Johnny called from the den, coming into the kitchen and collapsing into the chair opposite Mark with his arms crossed over his chest and  firmly set frown on his face, “He’s got one more hour of ignoring me before I go over there and make sure he’s okay,” Johnny announced, looking thoroughly _mid brood_ and also utterly exhausted.

“That might not be a great idea,” Mark pointed out, biting down nervously on his lip and saying a silent prayer that Johnny would just let his comment slide and not ask any questions. Of course, that was  rather tall order.

“Why not? I haven’t seen him in a long time and we haven’t really _hung out_ properly since I _started_ here,” Johnny pointed out, “It would be nice to catch up,”

There was really just no subtle way for Mark to tell Johnny that Ten didn’t want to see him. Because of this, there was even less of a segue for him to explain that Johnny was actually banned from Ten’s apartment altogether. The best thing he could possibly give was himself as a buffer for Ten’s aggression and later a comfort for the upset it would likely cause Johnny.

“I’ll come with you,” Mark offered, a little lamely, “Sicheng told everyone I’d be out with you all day, anyway. Wouldn’t want to – um – blow my cover,”

College professors didn’t really give a single fuck about whether or not you were doing what you said you were doing when you emailed in to say you weren’t coming to class, and both Mark and Johnny were well aware of this, but Johnny allowed Mark’s company with a shrug, while Mark closed his eyes tightly and wished with his entire chest that Ten would just text Johnny back so he wouldn’t have to see him.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a plate of food in front of him and he gave Taeyong a low ‘thanks’ before digging in, not having realized how hungry he was until he was eating.

Jaehyun, Taeil, and Yuta soon congregated around the table as well, serving themselves food and speaking their gratitude to Taeyong around mouthfuls of egg, bacon, and toast. Johnny, apparently, usually made pancakes or waffles. Mark decided he needed to stop by home around this time more often, if he could – he was really missing out!

“I don’t know how you even stomach the bastard,” It was Sicheng’s voice, causing Mark to look up abruptly and Yuta to go so far as to _stand_ up, one foot away from the table on a pivot as if preparing himself to walk into the foyer if Sicheng didn’t enter the kitchen.

Sicheng entered the kitchen – and with Doyoung behind him.

“It’s complicated,” Doyoung sighed, coming in and going straight to the stove as Sicheng plopped down in Yuta’s abandoned chair and helped himself to a slice of Yuta’s abandoned toast, “You don’t see him like I do – he’s different when we’re alone,”

Sicheng shrugged, flinching away from Taeil as he leaned over in hopes of kissing his cheek.

“Can I eat in peace? Please?” He half growled out when Taeil patted his head affectionately instead.

Mark’s laugh was contagious, spreading to Jaehyun immediately. It never ceased to amuse him that Sicheng harbored such a thorough dislike for physical affection and yet remained the most sought after cuddle buddy in their home. He was adorable – but vicious.

Like a lobster, Mark decided, mouthing the word ‘lobster claws’ to Jaehyun, who looked back at him with a confused wrinkle of the brow.

“Hey Smarty-Pants,” Johnny greeted, getting up so that Doyoung could sit down, since he was done eating.

“Good _Morning_ , Johnny!” Doyoung smiled, looking so delightedly happy that Mark had to squint to see the lie behind it. He was upset. _Very_ upset. Doyoung didn’t like people asking him what was wrong, but his resting expression for ‘good mood’ was much closer to lost orphan than excited puppy.

Johnny was also aware of this, and frowned, “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking to Sicheng when Doyoung didn’t answer.

“It’s a _secret_ ,” Sicheng bit out, cutting his eyes to Doyoung with clear disapproval, “One that I’m sick of _keeping_ , by the way, if it goes on for much longer,”

Mark got up so that Yuta could sit, but Taeyong beat him to the chair, pulling out a Monday-Sunday pill case and swallowing down the entire weekend with his orange juice before tossing the entire thing to Johnny, who dumped out the remainder on the table and sorted them before selecting his own chosen few, “Is it a secret I already know?” Johnny asked, sipping his water much too daintily for anyone to note the – Mark leaned over to get a closer look – was that Adderall?

“Nothing to see here,” Johnny gently urged, scooping up the pile and dumping it back into the case. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason behind the storage process, “Cutie Pie, I asked you a question,”

Mark had once taken the time to physically write down a chart of each endearment he’d heard Johnny utter. They all seemed sweet, kind, _common place_. It took a practiced ear to notice that no two people had the same one. Mark’s own title of _Baby Boy_ was one that he cherished, and he knew that Sicheng’s nickname ‘ _Cutie Pie_ ’ was a welcomed development as well. Donghyuck wasn’t overly fond of Johnny calling him _Squirt_ , but it didn’t grate on him nearly as much as Yuta disliked _Nerd_.

“Yes, Johnny. It’s a secret _you_ know,” Sicheng allowed, making clear that not everyone present was aware of this secret. Mark definitely wasn’t in the loop, but he didn’t feel like he needed to be. People should be allowed to reveal what they wanted to reveal at their own discretion. He assumed it didn’t involve him so it wasn’t any of his business.

“Maybe, seeing as it’s _my_ secret – we could move on?” Doyoung asked, eyebrows raised expectantly to the others as he forked his eggs, “If all of you are expecting rides to class, it’s in your favor to let me enjoy my breakfast, yeah?”

Taeyong looked like he was going to say something, but with a brief moment of eye contact with Johnny, he reconsidered.

“Well, you guys enjoy! I’m headed over to Ten’s,” Johnny announced, pleasantly.

Yuta choked and he wasn’t even eating. Doyoung and Taeil froze, making eye contact but not saying anything. Taeyong sipped the rest of his orange juice down without concern, and Sicheng groaned, getting up from the table and marching off – Mark thought he could hear him muttering about not having ‘time for this shit right now,’

It was only Jaehyun who had the mercy to intervene.

“Ten doesn’t want to see you, Johnny,” He said, simultaneously relieving and increasing the tension in the room.

“Well that’s too bad, then – cause I want to see _him_ and I’m going to whether he feels like it or not,” Johnny countered, boldly.

Mark was really starting to feel that his fear of Johnny having absolutely no idea how deeply Ten’s hatred for him ran was coming true. He really, really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news – but he wasn’t sure that hearing from Ten directly was what Johnny needed. He could only hope that Jaehyun was willing to play messenger more vigorously than this failed first attempt.

 “Fine, go over there and get cussed out – see if I care,” Jaehyun, it seemed, wasn’t up for it.

Seeing as they weren’t on any kind of a time crunch, Johnny had decided that they should take the bus, and Mark was unopposed. He accepted a soft ‘good luck’ from Doyoung, and got dressed and ready to accompany Johnny on his suicide mission to N-U, hoping that by some miracle perhaps Ten wasn’t at home.

Which, he knew, was ridiculous. It was a Friday. Ten didn’t even have class.

When they arrived to find the dorm empty, Mark was momentarily relieved until he heard the shower running, and the tell-tale sound of Taemin’s newest single blaring through the bathroom’s Bluetooth speaker. It was possible that it could be Jungwoo in the shower, but the likeliness was _low_.

“He is such a fuckin’ fanboy,” Johnny mused fondly, helping himself to a seat (in Ten’s spot) on the couch. Mark shrank into the chair wearily and waited for the world to explode.

His heart rate soared when the shower stopped. He held his breath when he heard the music get turned off. When the door opened, Mark began to pray to God for both guidance and forgiveness simultaneously. As a last ditch _panic_ , Mark even went so far as to shut his eyes when he heard Ten approaching.

He could feel the steam on his skin, smell the scent of shower gel, cool and fresh and floral. He could sense the heat of a third body in the room, but he heard … nothing. No screaming, no cursing, no dramatic sarcastic hyperbole. Nothing. It was the _nothing_ that made Mark open his eyes.

They were staring at each other. Wordlessly. They both looked … overwhelmed, Mark supposed. In a way that he wasn’t able to distinguish as either good or bad. Ten was staring at Johnny’s face, but his eyes were wide open and … twitching, slightly. Not aggressively, but as if he was trying to blink back … no, he wouldn’t _cry_ , would he?

Johnny, for his part, was looking at Ten’s neck, and then down lower – slowly, _appraisingly_. Oddly, more appraisingly than Mark had seen him show interest in most women that he ultimately ended up bedding. He wasn’t certain that the intensity of Johnny’s gaze was _sexual_ , but it was definitely … noticeable. Ten noticed it as well, and his instinctive response was to snatch his towel up from his waist to his neck.

Johnny smiled, charmingly.

“Hiding your _tits_ , Tennie?”

For it to have been quite possibly the first sentence verbally uttered between them in over two years, it wasn’t a great one in Mark’s opinion. If he’d gone even two _months_ without seeing Donghyuck (which he hadn’t, for as long as he’d _known_ Donghyuck) the first thing he said would doubtlessly be more along the lines of ‘I missed you so much!’ than anything else.

“You’re … you’re not supposed to be here,” Ten whispered, almost too low to hear. He hadn’t looked at Mark even once. Hadn’t taken his eyes off of Johnny since they’d first landed there. His hands clutched hard at the folds of his towel, arms bundled into the front of his body so tightly that he was beginning to tremble from the sheer force of it.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing all morning,” Johnny half-whined, pouting lightly as if his presence hadn’t shocked Ten thoroughly to the _core_ , which it so clearly _had_. It was clear to Mark and he didn’t exactly consider himself a specialist at reading people – surely Johnny could see how uncomfortable this situation was, right?

It took Johnny a moment. But he did, in fact, notice:

“What’s wrong, Honey?”

Ten’s breath hitched, knuckles going white around the towel and Mark knew that he could _hear_ it. He could hear that Johnny hadn’t said ‘Honey’ like it was his name. He hadn’t said it the way he _always_ called Mark Baby Boy, or the way he _always_ called Sicheng Cutie Pie. He wasn’t even saying it the way he _always_ called Jungwoo _Sweetheart_.

It was … passive, affectionate, practically a _slip of the tongue_. Not a nickname, or a title – but an endearment, and a completely _honest one_ , which was rare when Johnny was concerned.

“You _can’t_ ,” Ten whimpered, and his eyes really _were_ starting to water now, and in just a minute it would really, actually be _tears_ , and Johnny’s attack seemed so cruel – so _relentless_ , but how could he ceasefire when his mere presence was the offense?

“You _can’t_ be here,” Ten repeated, and when he blinked the tears fell, and Johnny was up from the couch and wrapping Ten in his arms in a moment so instant ( _instinctual_ ) that the motion was ending at its beginning.

“ _Please_ tell me what’s wrong,” Johnny murmured into Ten’s hair, and he was so _large_. Ten hadn’t ever looked so small before to Mark. It was oddly voyeuristic, watching them together. Like he was truly nothing more than a fly on the wall. But then, that shouldn’t have been surprising, should it? The two occupied each other’s attention enough as it was when they weren’t speaking at all. It should have been obvious that physically putting them in the same space would result in such thorough tunnel vison, “Just tell me, I won’t be mad … did I do something wrong? What is it? Whatever it is, I’m _sorry_ , just – we can talk about it and fix it, right? Please?”

Johnny sounded simultaneously like an aggravated parent trying to comfort their hysterical child and like a hysterical child who couldn’t understand why their parent was yelling. It was an alien and _invasive_ role for him to play, and not one that Mark would have cast him in, if ever given the option.

Ten only sobbed harder, burying his face into Johnny’s chest, whole body shaking and wracking with the sorrows of every single moment he’d waited, and waited, and _needed_ to hear the apology that was now coming _years_ too late.

And that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Johnny was _too late_ , and he didn’t even know what the deadline was. Mark didn’t even know what the _offense_ was.

Minutes later, when Johnny gave up all attempts to soothe his best friend’s sorrows – when he let Ten push him away and take a step back, when he finally _shut up_ for long enough that Ten had a _chance_ to speak, it wasn’t an explanation that he received. It wasn’t a story to be told, and it wasn’t forgiveness to be offered. It was a single sentence, spoken curtly and _hard_ , as Ten sniffled one last time and wiped his face with the towel:

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

So, they left.

Johnny didn’t speak at all during the entire bus ride to the southern side of the campus, but he also didn’t ring the bell for their stop, which was hard to miss as the electronic voice blared ‘ _Tau Nu Pi’_ over the loudspeaker.

So, Mark sat with him.

All the way to the end of the line, and then all the way back again before Johnny uttered even a word. His face was stern, thoughtful, eyes bloodshot and fingers tapping restlessly at everything they landed on. Mark felt like he could see the gears turning in Johnny’s head. Could _see_ the moment that he knew what he’d done – or, at least what he thought he’d done. The point was that there was a moment, a clear _moment_ where a flicker of possibility and understanding had flashed across Johnny’s face and then disappeared as quickly as it came.

“I shouldn’t have waited,” Johnny husked out, throat dry and deep from its stagnancy for the last two _hours_ of them riding the bus line back and forth without talking to one another. It was oddly peaceful for Mark to _waste time_. The idea that he was able to even be here for Johnny and just … sit with him. For _two whole hours_. The school day was just … passing them by. Such a strong act of relaxation hadn’t occurred in his life for possibly seven years. He’d have to thank Sicheng profusely.

“Shouldn’t have waited for what?” He asked, laying a supportive hand on Johnny’s knee and giving a warm squeeze. Johnny smiled at him but it didn’t reach his eyes quite the way it normally would. Which was expected. Even if Ten’s reaction to seeing Johnny hadn’t been what Mark thought it would be, the aftermath on Johnny’s end was _exactly_ as he’d expected it.

He could feel Johnny’s pulse racing in his knees. Unnaturally fast. Jerky.

“I shouldn’t _not know_ what I could possibly have done over the last … what? _Three years_? How could I have upset him so badly and not realized it for _so long_?”

His heartrate was _accelerating_ , now. Muscles twitching like they would after a long day’s work out, when you finally settle down without cooling off first. Johnny was … damn near having a panic attack just talking about this and Mark had absolutely no way of stopping it without diverting his attention – which he would surely fail at if he tried.

“You just … didn’t know,” Mark offered, knowing it was a feeble attempt at best and not nearly enough of an effort to calm Johnny down. They’d be circling back to the house in just a couple of minutes now, if he could just get them off the bus.

“Yeah,” Johnny agreed, softly. He looked at Mark with eyes pleading for understanding, an unfamiliar look on him, “Ten is _the most_ important person to me … and I _didn’t know_. Because I didn’t make any time for him – for _three years_ ,”

Mark knew Ten well enough to ensure that Johnny was right in assuming that his prolonged absence from Ten’s life was definitely a big part of what had made him so bitter for so _long_ , but it seemed a little unlikely that something like that would have brought Ten to tears just at the _sight_ of Johnny, right? There had to be something else beneath the surface here that Johnny was either unable or unwilling to recognize.

“Beating yourself up about it won’t help,” He pointed out, knowing at least that much to be true, “Hey, this is our stop, c’mon,” He rang the bell to get off as they approached the house, squinting a little critically as he caught sight of several girls from their sister sorority bikini-clad outside on the front lawn.

Wait those … weren’t bikinis.

“You’re expecting me to enjoy a lingerie party after the day I’ve had?” Johnny groaned out, allowing Mark to pull him off of the bus and looking more thoroughly disinterested by the prospect of scantily clad women than he ever had, to Marks memory.

“We weren’t out for that long were we?” Mark wondered, aloud. They’d left around eleven thirty in the morning, couldn’t have been at Ten’s for more than half an hour… Sure, they’d ridden the bus for a _while_ but it still didn’t seem like it should be later than two o’clock at best. 

“They’re just models for the flyers, the party doesn’t jump off until 9:00,” Johnny explained with a weirdly exasperated tone. He gave half of a wave to one of the girls, and after doing a double take, Mark noticed it was Taeyong’s girlfriend.

“I’m not coming to your fucking party, Seo!” She shouted back at him in response to the barely-decent greeting he’d offered.

“You never do!” He hollered in return, opening up the front door of the house and stepping inside.

It was true, she never did. Taeyong liked hooking up with strangers at parties. His girlfriend apparently didn’t mind this, but she did seem to prefer not to _witness it_. Apparently that didn’t stop her from agreeing to be on the flyer in a sheer lace baby doll that didn’t cover more than the top three inches of her ass.

“Did you want to um … talk? About … anything?” Mark asked a little nervously as he followed Johnny up the stairs, feeling like something of a lost puppy. The grandfather clock that held the honor of being the only furniture in the hallway of their second floor said it was just coming onto two, so he’d been right in his assumption of the time.

“I do, actually. To Taeil,” Johnny announced a little more aggressively than Mark thought he deserved. It was a fairly known fact that Johnny didn’t do well with his own _feelings_ , and when it came to disclosing those feelings to others, he had three selected outlets to receive information and no one else. These three people, according to Doyoung, were Taeil, Taeyong, and Jaehyun. In that order. No one else seemed to know anything at all about how to deal with Johnny when he was feeling damaged, so Mark tried  not to let himself feel offended by the blatant dismissal he was receiving and instead migrated towards his own bedroom, only to stop short at the sight of a red thong on the doorknob.

 _Really_?

He could hear the feint sound of grunting and movement from behind the door and decided to let Sicheng enjoy whoever it was that he had in there, plopping down awkwardly on the floor in the hallway and waiting to regain access to his space.

This was the fifth time _this week_ that the door had been marked do-not-disturb. A moment later, Yuta came out of his and Taeil’s room and sat down beside Mark with a strained smile.

“I’m guessing things didn’t go so great at Ten’s?” He asked, eyes straying over to the obnoxiously garish panties hanging off of the door, he seemed confused for a moment and then chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly.

Mark didn’t understand what was so funny about Sicheng getting dicked down in the middle of the day, especially to Yuta who was usually annoyed at _best_ by the amount of booty-call contacts that Sicheng kept on his Kakao. He was also trying not to be annoyed, considering he was usually not home at this time of day, so it could be that this was pretty standard.

“He cried. A _lot_ ,” Mark revealed, biting his lip in mild worry at the thought. Ten was home alone now, wasn’t he? That wasn’t good … maybe he should have stayed and comforted Ten instead of trying to soothe Johnny…

“Johnny _cried_?” Yuta asked, surprised and for good reason.

“ _Ten_ cried,” Mark corrected, watching as Yuta’s eyes widened.

“… _shit_ ,” He muttered, sighing loudly. He didn’t seem nearly as shocked as Mark had been, which was a little odd since Mark was pretty sure he’d never seen Ten cry before and didn’t think many people had, “Let me guess: He started crying, and Johnny tried to comfort him and he started crying _harder_ ,”

Mark squinted suspiciously, “What are you some kind of spy?”

“Or, I _see_ my friends often enough to know their behavior patterns,”

Wow, so apparently it was just National ‘Dis Mark Lee Because He’s Not Around’ Day. He did his best to be as present as possible in everyone’s life, but there were _seventeen people_ he considered his top priority, and that made it reasonably difficult to keep up with absolutely everyone. It was easier to handle them in groups – there was one level of time dedication that the kids at Dream needed, _including Donghyuck_. Then, there was another time slot that had to be set aside for Tau Nu Pi – _now also including Donghyuck_. Plus, while he didn’t see them as often, he still had to make time for his friends at N-U, which now included Lucas.

And that was a thought: _Lucas_. Mark had been thinking about him more and more lately since discovering that he’d taken over at the youth center. They’d been … texting. But it was a weird kind of texting, like when you ask a girl for her number and she says yes but you know nothing about her at all except that she’s pretty and her laugh makes you smile. Their conversations were filled with repetitive renditions of ‘how was your day?’ and ‘do you have plans for the weekend?’.

But there was still that urge to keep talking despite the routine. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, while Mark was on Skype with his study group and Lucas was awake doing god knows what with Kun, he’d call. He never said anything, just that he liked listening to Mark talk through his math problems. That it helped him relax. It was strangely intimate compared to their daytime conversations, and Donghyuck teased him for it relentlessly, especially on those rare nights when Lucas fell asleep and Mark didn’t hang up the phone – listening to the sound of him breathing before he himself dozed off.

So they _had_ to talk, because their friendship was turning over on its side and trying to morph into something else, but they’d never know what that something was if they didn’t say it.

“Don’t get all quiet and solemn on me, Mark. It’s a weird look on you,” Yuta muttered, leaning back against the wall and spreading his legs out in front of him.

“Hm? Oh, no it’s not about what you said – even though you’re totally an ass for that,” Mark pointed out, booping Yuta’s nose in playful reprimand, “I was thinking about Lucas,”

“Lucas Wong?”

“Yeah,” Mark nodded, tapping his fingers idly against his thighs, “Lucas Wong,”

“What about him?”

Mark sighed. What about him? He was ridiculous and rambunctious and, frankly, _idiotic_ when they sat on the phone together, Mark studying or talking to Sicheng – Lucas half-listening to Jungwoo babble to him or talking to Kun. His voice was way too loud for _anyone_ to find it remotely soothing but it still made Mark’s chest warm. He’d been crushing on Mark for _two months_ and Mark hadn’t really noticed him until two _weeks_ ago but now that he saw him, he was having a hard time looking away.

“Y’know he speaks like a dozen other languages but can’t seem to form a full sentence in a single one?” Mark pointed out, not knowing exactly what to say that would properly address Yuta’s question.

“Oh yeah?” The elder man asked, eyebrow reaching for his hairline sharply, “And how’s _that_ make you feel?”

“I don’t know. He’s got like … these weird catch phrases that literally no one else understands and that doesn’t stop him from using them _all the time_ ,” Mark laughed lightly, shaking his head with clear fondness that made Yuta roll his eyes. Hard.

“Does he, now?”

“And he’s good with the kids … like _really, really_ good with the kids. Donghyuck says he’s got Jisung going to all of his classes, and he memorized Chenle’s medication schedule, and he makes sure Jaemin gets to his chiropractor appointments,”

Mark was looking at Yuta a little pleadingly, hoping that he was reading between the lines here. It was Yuta, so, of course he was.

“Seems to me like you might kinda want his penis in your mouth Mark,”

Mark whined with embarrassment and covered his hands with his face, offering Yuta a lowly muttered, “Yeah, kinda,” which had them both laughing until the door opened a moment later, revealing Sicheng – who looked unreasonably dignified for someone wearing absolutely nothing at all while removing a small crimson piece of women’s underwear from a door knob.

“Please don’t tell me you guys have been sitting out here in the hall listening to me jerk off,” He groaned, covering his privates with one hand and clutching the thong in the other.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yuta promised with a beaming grin, “We’ve already had the ‘boundaries’ talk, remember?”

Sicheng looked mighty suspicious but Mark was losing interest fast, elated by the revelation that there wasn’t a stranger to be dealt with in his bedroom and he could go hang out on his bed in peace.

“Thanks for emailing my teachers for me,” He smiled out, scooting past Sicheng’s naked body and deciding that he was absolutely not going to notice the bejeweled butt plug resting neatly between his ass cheeks as he bent over to receive something Yuta was handing him in the hall, “I’m gonna take a nap. I’ve got like … possibly six days’ worth of sleep to catch up on,”

Sicheng, after receiving whatever had been handed to him, threw it right back in Yuta’s face and slammed the door shut to the sound of Yuta keening with laughter, stomping over to their closet and sifting through his clothes, setting different outfit possibilities out on the floor as he went along, “You want me to send your human-teddy bear up here when he comes by in an hour?”

The prospect of getting a midday nap _with Donghyuck_ was a delightfully relaxing one, and Mark nodded eagerly, “Yep!”

Sleep came to him more quickly than he’d expected, drifting in and out of consciousness enough to note that Sicheng left their room to shower, returned to get dressed, and left again. He had a vague understanding of Donghyuck scolding him for being summoned to his bed before being swarmed with the comfort of Donghyuck’s scented shampoo tickling his nose when he cuddled up close, head resting against Mark’s chest.

“You owe me from this morning,” Mark reasoned, hand resting against Donghyuck’s back as he dozed off again. He felt tired in his _body_ , not just his mind. He knew he pushed himself to new limits daily, but considering he was entirely capable of surviving such trials he’d never really recognized how much it was taking out of him until being given the opportunity to just … sleep.

When he next woke, it was to the sound of music blasting, which was odd because it seemed almost to spike and then _dull_ immediately afterwards. Opening his eyes, he saw that this was because the door had been opened and then shut. The music was playing downstairs, and Johnny was now in his room, all black satin pajama bottoms hanging loosely on his hips, chest bare.

“Hey there,” Johnny cooed, coming up to the bed and shaking Donghyuck’s shoulder lightly. Which, in turn, shook Mark as well. His best friend groaned and wrapped a leg around his waist in an attempt not to be removed. Mark giggled sleepily.

“C’mon, Squirt – party’s been in full swing for an hour and a half, you’re supposed to be helping with drinks,” Johnny chastised sweetly. Mark couldn’t remember being woken so kindly a single time during his pledging days, and especially not if he was shirking off frat duties.

But, Johnny was soft for Donghyuck. He was the youngest pledge they’d ever had, after all.

“I can’t even _drink_ ,” Donghyuck complained, trying to bat Johnny away with one hand and using the other arm to cling to Mark more insistently, “And I’m s’posed to be keeping an eye on Mark so he doesn’t get date-raped, right? He’s safe and sound right here,” He patted Mark’s cheek lightly without looking at him, almost poking his eye out in the process.

“Haechannie,” Johnny sighed, and Mark mused that it was so _like_ Johnny to address someone by anything _other_ than their assigned pet name in order to further cement their undivided attention, “I need you on drinks _now_ , got it?”

“Alright, alright. I’m coming,” Donghyuck agreed, dislodging himself from Mark’s person and stretching his back until it popped, “Mark’s coming too,”

“I am?” He asked, fully intending to go right back to bed despite the fact that he’d gotten eight hours of nap time.

“Mmhm, let’s go!”

Mark opened his mouth to protest and still found himself downstairs five minutes later in a red pair of boxers and a white terry cloth robe. The theme was lingerie and he looked more like he was headed to the sauna but he was absolutely _not_ about to strut around in his underwear in front of a bunch of strangers without his ‘ _guard pledge’_ at full attention. If Haechan was stuck handing out drinks, Mark was most definitely keeping himself covered up.

Not to say that he thought his body was especially enticing, but still – it was about the principle of the thing.

Seeing as it was a lingerie party, most of their guests seemed to have congregated around the stripper pole in the basement, which made getting food from the kitchen that wasn’t being offered to other guests a much more simple ordeal than he’d remembered it in the past.

Bent halfway into the refrigerator, the low hum of the almost-broken light buzzed at his ears enough that he didn’t hear anyone else entering that area of the house until a cabinet abruptly shut, and he flinched, jumping a foot back and trying to hide the chicken wing he’d taken hold of behind his back as he turned to see who’d caught him in the act.

“What the _fuck_!” Mark shouted, pointing the drumstick accusingly.

“Oh, shit…” Jisung muttered, and Mark could see the fight, flight, or freeze flickering in his eyes before he turned on his heel, apparently opting for _flight_.

“Oh no you don’t,” Mark interrupted, stepping forward and grabbing on to the sleeve of the teen’s matching turquoise pajama set, “What are you doing here?”

“Ah – um … well …” Jisung sputtered, eyeing the chicken warily as it was now being held threateningly in front of his face.

“And where’s the other one?” Mark demanded, shoving Jisung down onto one of the chairs on the island and taking a bite of the chicken. _Delicious_ , wow.

“Wh-who?” Jisung attempted, eyes glancing nervously back out towards the formal dining room (turned soft drink station) where Mark was now absolutely _certain_ he would find Chenle. These two didn’t operate well alone, and if one of them _had_ managed to get into the party by themselves, it would most definitely not be Jisung Park.

“Start talking. _Now_.” He pointed the drumstick in Jisung’s face, now with a bite missing from it, and watched sternly as the younger male went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“T-Ten bought us these matching pajama sets,” Jisung attempted to explain softly, “And we just … ah … just wanted to show them off for everyone,”

Mark narrowed his eyes. It was surely the kind of motive that he’d have bought if someone was telling a story _about_ Chenle and Jisung, but hearing it _from the source_ revealed it plainly as a lie. Mark could _always_ tell when Jisung was lying. He was shit at it.

As it was, though – he was at least grateful not to have found them downstairs ogling a strip show. He stared hard at Jisung as he finished his chicken, throwing the bone across the room into the trash and silently cheering himself on for making the shot before hauling the teen by the wrist into the other room.

Chenle was, as promised, wearing the same button down pajama set that Jisung had on, only he’d undone the top _four_ buttons and was holding one of the original glass-bottled coke-a-cola’s in a Tau Nu Pi beer cover, and drinking it in sips while he danced on the coffee table as if it was actually beer. Which, Mark noted thankfully, it totally wasn’t.

“How’re all my ladies doing tonight?” Chenle called out excitedly, chugging down another gulp of coke and undoing a _fifth_ button on his night shirt. There were absolutely no ladies in the room apart from two of their Sorority sisters wrapped up tightly in red velvet kimonos and laughing lightly at the child’s antics, “Make some noise!”

Mark screamed. Jisung winced. Chenle _saw_ , and released a squeal that was more like a shriek, jumping down from the table and trying to bolt.

Unfortunately, Mark was positioned in the entryway to the kitchen, which was the only possible exit from this room, and Chenle bolted right into his waiting arm, which shot out and gripped him firmly by the ear. Without another word, Mark marched both of them through the kitchen, into the main room of the house and then up the stairs to his bedroom, dumping them both onto his bed and then hovering over them, arms crossed.

“Lucas lets his eyes off of us for _one night_ and Mark shows up, what shitty luck..” Chenle muttered almost lowly enough that Mark couldn’t hear it.

“What was that?” He demanded, eyes unforgiving as he leered down over them, anger radiating off of his _skin_ , “You telling me you need to be constantly monitored, now? I expected better from you two!”

He couldn’t fucking _believe_ this! How the hell had they even gotten in? What were his _babies_ doing at a god forsaken _lingerie party_?

“No,” Chenle insisted, looking a little hurt that Mark was yelling at them. He endeavored to lower his volume before continuing:

“What do you think happens when your parents find out you’re at a party like this, hm? Your mother and father _trust me_ , Chenle. They have my _personal cell number_ on file at _work._ How do you think they’ll feel about you stripping on a table for women twice your age at _my house_ , huh?”

Chenle looked down at his feet, “I—”

“Furthermore, what do you think your school would have to say about this? Junior year is the hardest of the four. You’re in _three_ advanced placement classes, and _two_ of them test every Monday. You should be studying, not writhing around in my dining room like some little call-boy,”

Even though he wasn’t yelling anymore, he could tell they were intimidated, body language locked up tight and flinching with each inflection of his voice. He didn’t want to _scare them_ , so he backed up, uncrossed his arms and sighed.

“I care about you two’s _futures_ , you know. What do you think admissions would have to say if someone was recording that? Never mind any _other_ Universities you might have wanted to attend, imagine what would happen if _SMU_ saw you with _this_ ,” Mark snatched the coke bottle out of Chenle’s hand, presenting the Tau Nu Pi beer cover over it with a harshly raised brow, “You think they want a lawsuit on their hands? You think anybody’s gonna let you pledge TNP in two years if you’re the kid who gets this chapter shut down for having a _sixteen year old_ prancing around with a _beer_?”

Jisung piped up, “It’s not actually a—”

“I _know_ it’s not really beer, but that’s certainly not the way any single one of our rivals would paint it if they wanted our frat busted for underage drinking, now is it?” 

“No,” The youngest answered softly, and Mark heard Chenle sniffle next to him, tears building under his eyes and then falling down his cheeks as he sniffled again.

Well, Mark couldn’t have that. He forced himself to swallow down the next portion of his reprimand, instead leaning forward and wrapping his arms around both of them, “Hey, I’m not mad at you guys, okay? I’m just … disappointed in you,”

Now Jisung was crying too. Apparently, Mark’s attempt at comforting them had made it worse.

“Shhhh,” He soothed, petting their hair softly until the sniffling died down, “There’s still two months left without me there to properly look out for you,” Mark reminded them as he pulled away, wiping the tear-stains from their cheeks and smiling softly, “So I need you guys to promise you’ll _make good choices_ while I’m away, okay?”

He could feel his own voice cracking, the thought of another sixty days without being able to check in on his kids _daily_ like he was supposed to driving him absolutely insane. He swallowed the lump in his throat down and attempted to hide it as best he could, “Be good for Lucas so he can tell me all the great things you’re doing, hm? That way every time I ask him about my little Lele and Jisungie I can feel _proud_ of you guys, like I always do. Alright?”

Mark heard a feint buzzing sound coming from beneath his pillow and ignored it for the time being, watching as the two boys nodded their agreement to behave.

“Alright. Now, I’m going to go downstairs and try to find you a ride home so you don’t have to be bussing around town in these thin pajamas. It’s _October_ , you know – I don’t know what you guys were thinking coming out in these at night,” He stood up and walked over to Sicheng’s bed, crouching down under it and pulling out the wide bin that he knew his roommate kept all of his ‘adult’ things in. Finding what he was looking for, he crossed back to the other side of the room and laughed when he saw both teen’s eyes widen in horror.

“In the meantime, you’re getting handcuffed to my bed,”

They knew better than to protest at this point, and let him run the white fuzzy cuffs through the bars of his headboard and then attach each end to one of their wrists. The buzzing from beneath his pillow returned and he realized it was his phone, reaching to grab it and then frowning at the boys again.

“I have _fourteen_ missed calls from Lucas,” He announced to them, shaking his head when they couldn’t even meet his eyes.

It was actually thirteen missed calls and a single text, which he’d just received:

**MARK LEE !  You’re not answering your phone and I’m pacing around the front porch**  
**of your stupid frat house because I don’t have enough cash for the stupid door cover**  
**of Johnny Seo’s stupid party but I NEED to get in ASAP!  Get down here. N O W … pls.**

Mark smiled down at his phone softly, realizing that Lucas was frantically _searching_ for Chenle and Jisung and all the while still trying not to snitch on them now that he’d discovered their whereabouts. Wow. What a guy.

Somewhere between his bedroom and the front door, Mark decided that he really ought to just go ahead and tell Lucas he had feelings for him because clearly, he did. If the butterflies building in his tummy could be trusted, he could say he had _intense_ feelings for Lucas, and while he felt kind of shitty for only coming to this conclusion a week before _Halloween_ , when he’d first realized that Lucas was crushing on him in _August_ – he was hoping that the other Freshman would be thinking it was better late than never.

He found the front door guarded by Taeyong, and then found Lucas pacing as promised right outside of it.

“Hey,” Mark greeted softly, smiling when Lucas’ entire face lit up against his will. He was happy to see him. _Relieved_ to see him.

“Mark,” Lucas breathed out, shoulders dropping as the tension drained out of his features for a single moment before abruptly returning, “I’ve gotta get in. Could you tell this jerk to just let me inside?”

Taeyong leaned back against the door, “Brothers, Partners, and Pledges get in free, not _prospective_ pledges,”

 Lucas jutted his jaw out defiantly, wetting his lips with clear frustration, “I’m not a _prospective pledge_ of your _shitty fraternity_ , and I already _told you_ why I need to get inside!” He insisted, glancing at Mark pleadingly.

“It’s alright, Lucas,” Mark reassured, stepping all the way outside, “Take a walk with me?”

He could see that Lucas was torn, eyes going wide with such obvious _want_ that it pained Mark to witness it – but he couldn’t be shaken from the task at hand, “I wish I could, I really do but I’ve … I’ve _got_ to get back in there, I really do,”

“Back?” Mark asked, curiously, “You left?”

Taeyong, who was apparently chewing gum, snapped a bubble loudly, “We caught him snooping around upstairs and threw him out,” He explained.

“I wasn’t snooping, I was _looking_ for … something,” He glanced at Taeyong meaningfully, and Mark realized that Lucas must have revealed his actual motive already but just didn’t want Mark specifically to know. Ah. So he was mature enough to snitch on them to someone he needed help from but still concerned enough about their emotional wellbeing that he didn’t want to snitch to Mark _specifically_. Honestly, Lucas was just winning more and more points as the night went on.

“Did you check in my room?” Mark asked, leaning back casually against the brick of the house, “For whatever you’re looking for?”

Lucas shook his head, “I could hear you talking to someone _in_ your room so I figured they- _it_ wasn’t in there or you’d have um … noticed. It’s kind of a … large-ish … thing,”

Mark smiled, enchanted, “Yeah?” He asked, pursing his lips in an attempt to keep from laughing, “I’m sure it’ll turn up, then. C’mon and take a walk with me,”

Lucas looked like he was about to cry with frustration. Frankly, Mark had seen enough people he cared about crying for one day. He took a step forward, worriedly.

“Lucas—”

“It’s _my fault_ , okay? Promise you won’t be mad at them, it was me who screwed up, I swear it was, Mark. I _knew_ they were up to something with those damn pajamas but I didn’t figure out what it was until I saw the flyer for the—”

“Lucas, I—”

“—Pajama party and I caught Jaemin and got him safe with Kun but he _warned them_ that I was onto their plans and Chenle and Jisung _got away_ somehow, and next thing I know they’re—”

“Lucas, _listen_ —”

“—Over here doing _fuck knows what_ and possibly screwing up their entire futures and both of them have a test on Monday that they should really be studying for anyway, and who _knows_ what’ll happen if their school finds out that—”

Mark stepped forward and covered Lucas’ mouth with his hand, “Hey,” He chided softly, “I’ve _got them_ , okay? They’re thoroughly trapped in my bedroom and completely safe. I promise,”

It was an odd thought to promise someone _aside from himself_ that Chenle and Jisung were alright. Odd … but nice. Very nice. _Domestic_ , in a way that he found ridiculously pleasing.

“Take a walk with me?”

Lucas nodded, and Mark removed his hand, bringing it down to hold Lucas’ instead of covering his mouth with it. Lucas’ hand was warm, slightly callused, and _large_. It wrapped around Mark’s tightly and he never wanted to let go, which made him smile as he tugged the taller man down the front steps and began lazily heading down the street.

“You weren’t too hard on them, were you?” Lucas asked as they rounded the corner, and Mark noticed the way his fingers twitched nervously as he asked the question and squeezed his hand with reassurance.

“I didn’t go overboard,” He revealed with a gentle upturn of the lips, “I yelled at first, but I saw it was freaking them out so I toned it down a level,”

“Fuck,” Lucas sighed, body language relaxing completely by the time they made it to the next block, “I’m so relieved I could kiss you,” He muttered, and Mark almost didn’t catch it. If they weren’t just beneath the streetlight, he wouldn’t have caught the blush that Lucas’ tongue-tied blurt had caused him either, but they _were_ under the light, and Mark _had_ heard, and he stopped walking.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I definitely shouldn’t have said that,” Lucas apologized, laughing nervously, “I mean you clearly see me as a friend and I know you only sleep with girls and – whoa, I’m not trying to suggest that I want to get in  your pants, that came out wrong. I just am like … really shitty at pretending that I’m not into you, but you know that, which is probably why you never text me first or something, I dunno. Kun says I’m wasting my time pining over a straight dude and I guess I am but I _like_ you and holy shit this was supposed to be an apology … Sorry,”

Mark sat down on the curb under the light and stared up at the way the warm yellow hue accented what was left of Lucas’ tan from the summer. Pretty.

“Wow,” He remarked, leaning back on his hands, “I’ve known Kun for _years_ and he thinks I’m straight. That’s nuts,”

Lucas was gaping at him a little stupidly and Mark stared back at him for a solid two minutes of pregnant silence before he realized that he was going to have to be the one that spoke, as Lucas was clearly speechless.

“You really _could_ , you know,” He drawled, flattening his legs.

“I could what?” Lucas whispered, staring at Mark so intensely that there was no way he didn’t already realize what Mark was trying to say.

“If you’re all _that_ relieved – you really _could_ kiss me,”

Lucas didn’t move at all. He kind of just … froze there. Like some kind of ice sculpture. So Mark stood back up, approached him – placing himself firmly in Lucas’ personal space, and put a hand on his cheek.

“I kind of _want_ you to kiss me, actually,” He admitted, thumb rubbing gently against Lucas’ cheekbone. He had such a gorgeous face. Every second Mark spent finally admitting to himself that he was attracted to him just made him _more_ attracted to him, “I’m not entirely unwilling to _beg_ for a kiss, if you’re into that,”

Lucas _whimpered_ , leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. He put a hand against Mark’s hip, gripping it tightly as if it was the only thing keeping him actually grounded to the planet. He licked his lips but not _teasingly_ – he was nervous.

“I’ve uh … I’ve never really kissed anybody before,” Lucas admitted, shutting his eyes with what Mark assumed was some kind of embarrassment or shame, “I mean I got shit faced drunk and made out with my best friend once but that doesn’t really count to me and I … I really want to kiss you if you want me to but I um … I don’t want you to _not_ want to kiss me again afterwards,”

“Hmm,” Mark hummed, “Thank you for your honesty, it’s refreshing and very sweet,”

Lucas separated their faces enough to smile at Mark, doubtlessly thinking that now he had explained himself and the subject was closed.

What an idiot. Mark kissed him.

He kissed him, and he kissed him _well_. Confident, and wanting, lips on soft lips as Lucas sighed against his mouth, tongue dipping lightly against the parted opening but not in any hurry to journey further inside. Mark pulled Lucas down deeper, inching himself forward so they were chest to chest and exhaled happily against Lucas’ mouth when he felt strong arms wrapping around his waist. He broke away by only a millimeter, pecked Lucas’ lips lightly, then again, then _again_ , then kissed him _properly_ – teeth grazing skin, tongue seeking out _warmth_ , as he sucked Lucas’ bottom lip soft, and _slow_. Very, very slowly.

He took his time, one hand still running gently over Lucas’ face, the other wrapping behind his neck, now tickling at his hair as Mark pulled him in more closely, letting their lips brush together as he let them separate for breath. He huffed out a soft laugh when he heard Lucas’ whimper of protest that they were no longer locked at the mouth, and pressed a kiss of apology against his jaw in response before actually taking a full step back. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much of a real step, since Lucas didn’t seem to have any intention of letting his waist go and Mark wasn’t overly anxious to be released.

“Oh my God,” Lucas whispered out, staring down at Mark like he actually _was_ the very God that had just been mentioned.

Mark smiled, “Thank you for letting me have your first official kiss,” He responded, just as lowly, burrowing his nose against Lucas’ neck and then kissing him there, too, which caused the other male to actually outright _whine_ , “I’d be honored to have your second and third as well, whenever you’re ready for that,”

“Not to be super gross, but I’m kind of virginal here and I know this is probably really embarrassing to admit at all, especially out loud – but there’s an actual risk that I might come in my pants if we keep this up,”

Mark _howled_ , laughing so freely and delightedly that he wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed properly at all before. Truth be told, he himself wasn’t even _hard_. He could feel the feint twinge of almost-arousal in his stomach, but … well, he had a lot more sexual experience than Lucas did. That much was clear.

“Fair enough,” He allowed, once he’d calmed down enough to form words, “I’m sure you want to see Lele and Jisung with your own eyes before you head back to N-U. We can just turn around now and get back to kissing when there’s enough time and privacy for me to make you come _without_ your pants?”

Lucas groaned, taking several steps back and covering his face, “First of all – fuck you for understanding that I want to lay eyes on those horrible little troublemakers while I was trying to act _normal_ about it, and _not_ like their neurotic _mother_ ,” He said with a pout, “Secondly, do not _proposition me_ in the middle of the night in the middle of the _street_! I want my first time to be … respectable. From beginning to end,”

Mark snorted, taking Lucas’ hand again and leading him back to the frat house, “Alright, alright. How about I just let you proposition _me_ when you’re ready to?”

“Deal,” Lucas nodded, following along in comfortable silence until they reached the front porch again. The party was still going in full force, and Lucas sneered – obviously disgusted by the fraternities antics. Johnny really wasn’t getting anywhere on that whole recruitment project at all with this guy, which didn’t look good for their funding if they were going to get a line together by the end of the semester. They needed at _least_ one actual college-age prospect, and Donghyuck didn’t count, and Lucas _clearly_ wanted no part of anything to do with Tau Nu Pi at all.

When they got to the front porch, it was significantly more occupied than when they left. Taeyong was still posted in front of the door, but the porch chairs were now occupied by Doyoung, clad in nothing more than a black jock strap, and –

“Professor _Kim_?” Lucas asked, incredulously, “You come to the _parties_ , too? What the fuck?”

To Mark’s knowledge, Professor Kim actually did _not_ come to the parties, so he was just as surprised as Lucas was, albeit a little less horrified.

“We got a noise complaint,” Doyoung explained, sounding annoyed beyond reason. The party was _loud_ , and noise complaints were fairly frequent and fairly easily dealt with as far as Mark understood, “Heechul was just coming to tell us to pipe down, and apparently to spend the following ten minutes _lecturing,_ ”

“Okay, fine, I’m done!” The professor promised, holding his hands up as if in surrender, “I’m just saying, lingerie party or not – every guy I’ve seen here is in boxers or _more_. No reason for you to have your entire ass out like that. It’s … not a good representation of the frat,”

Doyoung blinked up at him, crossing one leg over the other, “I’m sorry, I feel like we’re really misunderstanding each other when it comes to the definition of the word _done_ ,”

Their teacher looked about ready to pop a vessel at Doyoung’s obvious and unwavering sass, and the two of them stared at each other in hard silence before Mark finally cleared his throat, deciding he couldn’t be bothered to play bystander for any longer.

“Taeyong could you step aside and let Lucas and I in please?”

Taeyong huffed, “I already told you, Mark – brothers, partners, pledges. _Not_ prospects,”

“Right,” Mark agreed, holding up the hand that currently presented his and Lucas’ fingers, entwined, “Partners get in free. He’s my boyfriend,”

“He is?” Taeyong asked, shocked.

“I am?” Lucas asked, even more shocked than Taeyong.

“Mark,” Doyoung chastised, distracted from his silent battle with Professor Kim, “Don’t be stupid and spit out something you can’t take back,”

Mark leveled his eyes with Doyoung’s and took another step forward towards the door, “I’m not. Partners get in free, and he’s my boyfriend. I meant what I said, so how about you guys move out of my way, yeah?”

“He’s the _only person_ left on the prospective fall line,” Doyoung hissed, glancing at Heechul a little worriedly, “What will we present to—”

“Funding Tau Nu Pi is your responsibility as treasurer,” Mark reminded, “Not Lucas’. So do partners get in free, or not? Because if they don’t, I can count three people at least who need to stop showing their face around here,”

Doyoung looked pissed enough to punch him, but Mark didn’t really care. Lucas hadn’t asked to be caught up in their shit and didn’t _deserve_ to be caught up in their shit. He’d made clear that he didn’t want to be a prospective pledge about a _million times_ , it wasn’t Mark’s fault that no one listened to him.

Without another word, Taeyong stepped inside, walking immediately over to Johnny, and likely reporting on what Mark had just done, if the glare Johnny was shooting him over the mass of people was anything to go by. He ignored it, walking up the stairs with Lucas’ hand still resolutely attached to his own.

“Um … boyfriends?” Lucas asked, a little nervously as they approached the top step.

“If you want,” Mark answered with a shrug, smiling at Lucas coyly, “There’s a big ass draw back, though – which I’m sure you’ve noticed by the bitchy stares we keep attracting from everyone who was so ready to welcome you here just a couple months ago,”

Lucas nodded, furrowing his brow with confusion as they approached Mark’s door.

“As the public significant other of a current fraternity brother,” Mark began, watching as realization dawned on Lucas’ face and he started grinning excitedly, “You’re now officially _barred_ from pledging Tau Nu Pi,”

Lucas _beamed_.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“I am now _propositioning_ you for a second kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lot's of new developments in this chapter! Big thanks to all who comment/kudo/bookmark! You guys are my life blood, seriously!


	5. Sally's Song Pt.1: Kun POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Na Na <3 
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long! Originally the entire thing was told from Renjun's POV but that just ... didn't work with the events that needed to transpire in this chapter, so I had to rewrite the entire thing from Kun's POV on top of going on vacation and all of the wild shit going on with my multiple fandoms right now. (BTS slamming down Jintro, NCT alluding to a comeback soon, and Pentagon's entire bucket of nonsense (Buzzfeed article [HERE](https://www.buzzfeed.com/liawrites/international-fans-rally-to-keep-edawn-in-pentagon-3kkak?utm_term=.ncq6xeqK#.dwxVbk1w) if you're interested)
> 
> Anyways -- you guys have waited long enough so I won't put you through a huge authors note!

“It’s like he’s in heat or something,” Kun complained, a shiver running down his neck in mild disgust even as Ten laughed loudly in his face: “I’m serious, he’s yankin’ it all day!”

Ten was still clearly having a very hard time not laughing, which wasn’t putting Kun in a better mood. At all.

“Jungwoo’s eyes are sensitive and I can’t smoke in my own room, he says!” Ten mocked back at him, overly dramatizing Kun’s Seven-Month-Old complaint as if it was even remotely relevant, “Find me a roommate with a _passion for pot_ , he says!”

Kun groaned, “Ten—“

“Now here he is, surprised that the _pot head_ I find him is a lazy moron who spends all of his time in bed touching himself—“

“ _TEN!_ ” Kun shouted, able to sense that he was moments away from enduring one of Ten’s notoriously lackadaisical tangents, “I’m serious. He went to that Tau Nu Pi party last week and he’s been tugging the rope all day since then — every damn day! I can’t sleep in there, I can’t eat in there, and I can’t smoke in there. You know what that means?”

Ten gave an overwhelmingly noncommittal hum and ran his fingers through his own hair, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

“It means I’m _cranky_. Do you know what _that_ means?” Kun scathed, annoyance exuding out of him in waves.

Ten sighed loudly.

“Yeah. It means I’m now _your problem_ Mr. Landlord.”

Ten’s expression disagreed but he wasn’t quite bold enough to argue verbally. Kun was aware that his bad moods were something of a legend on campus. He wasn’t nearly as bad as the stories made him out to be, but he wasn’t exactly the most patient person in the world when he was restless.

Presently, he was without rest, without sustenance, and without the one thing that could have relaxed him despite the prior two trespasses.

“What do you want me to say to the guy?” Ten asked, resting his chin in his palm and looking at Kun seriously for quite possibly the first time since they’d sat down for breakfast nearly an hour ago, “It’s kinda crazy to just walk up to someone you’re _just_ getting to know well and tell them to stop masturbating at odd hours, you know.”

Kun took a rather dainty sip of his tea and shrugged, “I don’t care how you go about it, just … fucking fix it,”

“Fix what?” Jungwoo asked, easing into the kitchen with soft kittenish steps. The fall of his feet against the cool tile was nearly impossible to observe without looking at him. Nevertheless, with a high-pitched yawn and his arms raised high above his head in a stretch, his presence filled the room effortlessly despite his quiet nature.

“Nothing,” Kun and Ten insisted simultaneously.

It wasn’t that Kun cared much about protecting Lucas’ honor, only that the entire situation between their two youngest roommates was getting ever more complicated by the minute and as long as they both were determined to ignore the crippling disaster of their ‘best friendship’ he wasn’t going to stir the pot.

The _truth_ of the matter was that Jungwoo was even more obviously in love with Lucas than Lucas was with Mark. Jungwoo, naturally, did not accept or acknowledge this to any degree, and Lucas was content to ignore it for as long as it meant he could get away with dating Mark Lee guiltlessly. Although … considering Lucas still hadn’t revealed to Jungwoo that he was now in a relationship with Mark, there was at least a modicum of guilt to be spared one way or another.

Jungwoo couldn’t be benefitted in any way by the knowledge that Lucas was stroking his dick all day, most likely thinking about Mark who most likely (considering he was _Mark_ ) had totally not hit that yet.

Kun wasn’t in the habit of divvying out information that couldn’t do anyone any good. Especially if it posed the risk of doing harm. He left that kind of loose and abrasive tongue-wagging to Ten.

 “You guys never tell me anything,” Jungwoo pouted, groggy eyes blinking cutely as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was adorable in the mornings, goose-bumped skin from the contrast of exiting his overly-blanketed bed and stepping out into the cool air of the living area, slick and shiny lips from the glass of water on his  nightstand that he always gulped down first thing after waking, loose sweatpants barely hanging onto his slender hips.

“It’s ‘cause you’re our baby and you shouldn’t have to worry your precious little mind on it,” Ten teased, standing to pinch Jungwoo’s cheek (which deepened his pout) before setting his dishes in the sink.

Kun snorted, “That is literally the exact same thing Johnny said to you when you asked why he and Taeyong didn’t tell you anything,” He pointed out, finishing off the remainder of his tea and shoving his own breakfast plate forward for Ten to drop it into the sink with the others.

“That was high school,” Ten reminded, “Back when they were _Johnny Seo Sexy,_ and _Boss_. Honestly? I’m glad we’ve moved on from that for more reasons than one, and at this point – I couldn’t give a flying fuck what secrets they’re keeping anyway,”

Kun gave a nod of agreement, empathizing thoroughly with that sentiment. He’d only attended high school with Ten for his last two years, but they were noticeably and drastically _different_ years. As a junior, it had felt like they were on top of the world. Ten and Johnny were inseparable, and Kun and Taeyong trailed merrily along behind them, never minding that they weren’t _quite_ invited into whatever private world the other two boys were living in together.

The nickname ‘Boss’ had arisen based on Taeyong’s control over the entire operation, which (despite Johnny’s handsomeness) had been clear to any onlookers from the start. Johnny was the brains behind most things back then, but nothing happened without Taeyong’s final stamp of approval. Kun suspected that their chapter at Tau Nu Pi likely functioned with the same methodology.

When the boys had started calling Taeyong _Boss_ it had been seamless. Natural. Uneventful.

That was not the case with the arrival of the nickname _Johnny Seo Sexy_.

It had first been uttered as a cat call, issued by a cheerleader despite the fact that Johnny wasn’t on any noticeable teams and didn’t mingle with any popular athletes in particular. He’d come to school in the black leather jacket that Ten had gotten him for his birthday the week prior, wrist sparkling with the silver watch that Ten had bought him for Christmas. The burgundy button down required of their uniform was tucked neatly into the matching mandatory khaki pants, his blazer poking out of the leather jacket’s sleeves – nothing more than a reminder to administrative staff that he was, in fact, wearing it.

He’d forgotten his tie that day, and left the top two buttons of his shirt undone so as not to draw attention to the awkwardness of the missing article of clothing. Ten had been standing in front of him, fingers flicking through his fringe to arrange it so that Johnny looked more ‘ _Devil-May-Care_ ’ and the girl had just … said it. Right as she walked past.

 _‘Aw, look at Johnny Seo Sexy and his pretty little boy-toy!_ ’

Ten had frozen. His features, usually delicate – charming – had taken on an inhuman state of regality. He’d become an ice sculpture, and Taeyong had laughed, and Johnny had laughed, and Kun had _kind of_ laughed if he was being honest, and so Ten had _tried_ to laugh, but it hadn’t come out properly.

Luckily, the accusation that Ten was Johnny’s ‘boy-toy’ didn’t stick. The nickname _Johnny Seo Sexy_ … lingered. Johnny started being addressed that way by a large percentage of the female population, a small portion of the male population, and even a couple of teachers who were younger and more friendly with the students. He was called Johnny Seo Sexy to his face. He was called Johnny Seo Sexy behind his back. It slipped off of the tongue so naturally that even Taeyong had taken to saying it (as had Kun, on a couple of habitual and accidental occasions).

Ten had only ever called him Johnny back then. Not Johnny Seo, and certainly not Johnny Seo _Sexy_. 

Then that summer, while Johnny started pledging for Tau Nu Pi … Ten had stopped calling him anything at all. Senior year, Johnny was a gender, and not a person. He’d become _He/Him_. Capital H.

‘ _Y’know He hasn’t called me **once** since joining that frat?’ _

_‘Still haven’t heard from Him. What a **great** best friend, huh?’_

_‘So He finally calls me back last night and it’s to tell me that He’s moving into the frat house and doesn’t need to stay in the duplex I already  convinced my dad to buy for us on campus. Guess I need a roommate next year…’_

Despite any implied animosity, Ten had been ecstatic at his own early acceptance to SMU and elated for _weeks_ at the opportunity to reconnect with Johnny and Taeyong. His best friends. _Especially_ Johnny. His _best-best_. He’d assured  Kun that it would be just like high school, but _better_ , because there would be a lot more alcohol. Kun had always been more of a smoker than a drinker, but with the promise of additional resources for marijuana as well, he’d been hooked.

They’d arrived to SMU bright eyed, bushy tailed, and ready for everything to go back to being exactly like high school … but _better_.

And then—

“Please tell me the nostalgic look in your eyes right now is in no way related to Johnny _fucking_ Seo,” Ten hissed out, his own eyes cold and hard.

Understandably so, considering everything.

“I was thinking of the old days where I could _sleep_ in my fuckin’ bedroom, actually,” Kun muttered in response, just a little too lowly for Jungwoo to pick it up while he was this groggy.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” Ten whispered back as their final roommate (sweat bundled on his brow and smelling like _balls_ ) walked into the kitchen.

“Happy Halloween, everybody!” Lucas greeted at _top volume_ , offering Jungwoo a double handed high-five that nearly knocked the smaller man off of his feet, saved only by Ten’s protective grip on his waist, “What do you have planned tonight, guys?”

He opened the refrigerator and hunched over like he was hunting for his last meal. Kun figured that since Lucas was inflicting about six orgasms a day onto himself, he was probably pretty hungry. More hungry than normal, which was saying something _major_. That kid could eat.

“We’re having a little get together here with a couple of the dreamies,” Kun explained, “I should actually be on my way to pick them up now. They promised to help set up if we let them wear costumes,”

Ten frowned, “Is it a _privilege_ to wear a costume on _Halloween_ now?”

“Tau Nu Pi banned costumes for their Halloween party,” Lucas explained, rolling his eyes a little too fondly for comfort, “They’re doing a twenties theme so it’s all flapper dresses and tuxedos, and other parties are catching wind that costumes are out and classy is in,”

Ten’s frown only deepened, squinting with clear disapproval, “That’s so ridiculous – what’s Sichengie gonna do with his inflatable penis suit?”

Jungwoo giggled, “It’s not like he’s ever taken it out of the box,” He reminded in good humor.

The inflatable penis suit costume had been a parting gift from Ten to Sicheng when he’d moved out of their dorm and into the frat house. No one had expected it to ever be worn. It was purchased as a passive aggressive gesture, not a _present_.

“I gotta pick up, too,” Kun remembered, thinking aloud with a hefty groan. He’d been resorting to edibles for the last week while Lucas processed through the abrupt spike in his libido, but he’d demanded the right to smoke in the living room for Ten’s Halloween party, so he was damn sure gonna take that advantage. Body highs just weren’t the same.

“Good luck with _that_ ,” Lucas noted, “While I was at TNP yesterday Jaehyun mentioned that he bought out the whole damn campus,”

Unfortunately, Kun didn’t find that hard to believe. He did, however, decide that he was going to ignore it for the time being and attempt to acquire marijuana anyway. He was gonna fucking smoke god dammit.

“So I take it you’re going to Tau Nu Pi’s _twenties_ party?” Kun inquired, getting up and stepping into his shoes to the sound of cereal loudly hitting the porcelain of Lucas’ bowl.

“Yeah! Mark invited me, he’s taking the night off for it,” Lucas beamed, even as Jungwoo blinked obliviously into his freshly poured cup of coffee. Kun glared at Lucas, and then at Jungwoo, raising his brows expectantly. He _had_ to tell Jungwoo he was dating Mark. He _had to_ , before the little idiot got his heart broken even more than it already was.

Lucas, unfortunately, did not accept his silent plea with its actual intention.

“Jungwoo, you should come with me!”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Hmm?” Jungwoo looked up from his coffee with mild interest, raising the heel of one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes and taking an unenthusiastic sip of the bitter liquid, “Come with you where?”

“Tau Nu Pi’s Halloween Party,” Lucas explained, flinching when Ten slammed his palm down against the table. A small splash of coffee jolted out of Jungwoo’s cup and he whined at the loss.

“Jungwoo has already promised to help me with _my_ Halloween Party. Which, I’ll remind you _both_ , is actually a _Halloween Party_ , not a _twenties party_ that is happening to take place on Halloween.”

Jungwoo bit his lip nervously, glancing back and forth between Ten and Lucas as if trying to figure out where exactly his loyalties lied. Ten’s eyes narrowed and he _whimpered_.

“It’s okay, Jungwoo. We can always just do something later on,” Lucas offered a little weakly in the face of Ten’s outrage.

Ten was actually usually pretty relaxed about cancelling plans. Especially plans that included Jungwoo, who was helplessly and _desperately_ loyal to Ten despite having not a single inkling what Ten’s issue with Tau Nu Pi actually was. Kun supposed that after having so much time taking Jungwoo’s unquestioning allegiance for granted, it was a little jarring to see how much more tightly bound he was to Lucas.

But then … high school friendships were like that. Sometimes.

“No! I … no,” Jungwoo insisted, looking pointedly away from Ten as the elder male released a highly frustrated exhale, “I’d love to go out with you, Lucas we haven’t … I mean, not to complain or anything, I know you’re busy. Just, we haven’t really _hung out_ properly since you got here. A Halloween party would be nice, and Tau Nu Pi is supposed to be super fun, right?”

Ten abruptly (unsurprisingly) stomped across the dorm and into his room, slamming the door so loudly behind him that the force of the closer shifted the curtains on the window beside it.

Well. This subject was rather a fragile one, still.

There was a part of Kun that wanted to urge Jungwoo to just stay home. To stay far, far away from a Tau Nu Pi party on Halloween night. There was just something … superstitious, about it all. Jungwoo was still too _soft_ to be out there on his own; and Lucas was _not_ a well learned chaperone. Not yet, anyway. They were sending limping prey into a lion’s den, and Ten knew it. _Feared it_ for him, but didn’t know how to express it.

There was a part of Kun that just wanted to blurt out everything. To tell the whole story from start to finish, about the day he first met Johnny Seo, and how much he’d loved him – how much they’d _all_ loved him. About how everything had gone so wrong so _fast_ , and about the night it had just gotten to be … too much.

The largest part of Kun, though – the _kindest_ part; knew that it wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his story to tell. Knew (more importantly) that even if it _was_ his story – and some parts of it really _were_ – that it wouldn’t help. Jungwoo was going to follow Lucas to that party, the way he followed Lucas everywhere. Lucas, too oblivious to notice, wouldn’t even realize that he was the one in the lead. He wouldn’t pause for breath as Jungwoo choked and heaved to keep up behind him. He would never, ever turn around and _see_ until it was too late.

But what could Kun do to prevent any of that? Every piece on the board was well in motion before he’d arrived to observe the game, and he was never invited to play.

Once again, if he couldn’t be helpful there was no point in speaking at all.

“I gotta pick up the kids. Lucas you’re walking Jeno and Jaemin from the bus stop later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Kun nodded his confirmation and opened the door, “Right. I’ll catch you guys later, then.”

Thirty minutes and seven connects later, he still hadn’t found any fucking weed.

Needless to say, his mood wasn’t improving. He was pushing it kind of close to pick the kids up at this point and if he didn’t get over there within at _least_ the next twenty minutes or so there was no telling what kind of shenanigans they’d get into.

It was quite possibly an entirely moot hunt and if he didn’t just suck it up and make _that_ phone call then he’d be wasting too much time. So, with a reluctant sigh, he dialed the number and let the sound of the Bluetooth ringing fill the cab of his car as he turned around, driving to the south side of the campus.

“This is The Sandman,” A low voice answered, and Kun snorted. _Loud_.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? The _Sandman_? Fucking _what_?” His brief snort turned into an all-out laugh, “ _Oh_ my God … _Jaehyun_ – who the _hell_ even _calls you_ —”

“Y’know what? Not a great way to start off a conversation if you’re as dry and desperate as I _know_ you are, dude.”

That was fair.

Still. The _Sandman_? Jaehyun must have lost his mind. This was the fourth or fifth installment of titles he had attempted to bestow upon himself after receiving the dreaded and _permanent_ nickname ‘Lefty’ from Johnny when it was discovered in a mildly rambunctious game of Truth or Dare that Jaehyun masturbated with his left hand even though he was right handed.

Basically, early college parties were terrible ways to make friends, Johnny Seo was a douche bag, and Kun was now having to purchase marijuana from an idiot who addressed himself as _The Sandman_.

Fucking stellar.

“Alright, _Sandman_. You got anything for me, or what?”

There was a pause, a soft crashing noise, and the distinct sound of Taeyong’s voice shouting something, which Jaehyun responded to distantly before returning to the phone, “Yeah, yeah. You on the way now?”  

Kun gave a small hum of affirmation, “I’ll be there in five minutes,” He informed, and Jaehyun hung up the phone.

When Kun arrived at Tau Nu Pi, there wasn’t any space in the driveway for his car – forcing him to park around the corner and approach on foot. Hopefully, Jaehyun wasn’t about to hand him drugs in something conspicuous. The last time he’d been here for this he’d received two grams of weed in a _clear mason jar_ and had to get four blocks down the street with it.

The front door is not only unlocked but halfway _ajar_ , and he walks in to the living room to see quite a larger congregation of people than he’d expected. Considering it was Halloween and the house wasn’t _at all_ decorated yet, Kun had assumed that everyone would be out hunting for pull-apart spider webs and pumpkin shaped confetti.

Instead, what he saw was Johnny, sprawled out and sleeping _hard_ with his head in the lap of a familiar girl Jaehyun thought they called her _L.J._ but he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that she was dating Taeyong and highly suspected to also be sleeping with Johnny. Of course, seeing her with her fingers tangled in his hair while he slept didn’t exactly help to abolish those suspicions.

Seeing Johnny passed out on top of a girl didn’t shock him.

The fact that the remainder of Tau Nu Pi (sans Mark) were seated on the floor around him in a semi-circle shocked him.

“I just need … a _sign_ or something,” Doyoung was murmuring, knees curled up against his chest. He didn’t seem to be outright _crying_ , but if the arm of comfort that Taeyong had slung over his shoulders was anything to go by, he wasn’t exactly peachy keen, either. “I just need someone to _tell me_ which way to go here, I can’t—”

Kun cleared his throat. This was giving him serious ‘fraternity secret’ vibes despite the fact that he’d been on the phone with an otherwise chipper Jaehyun not five minutes earlier. Upon further inspection, he discovered that Doyoung’s messenger bag was slung haphazardly onto the ground, papers spilling out of it onto the carpet.

Not a sight Taeyong would have tolerated for very long. This must have been some kind of … emotional emergency?

“Kun,” Jaehyun greeted softly. He offered a supportive pat on the shoulder to Doyoung before getting up. Every eye in the room (apart from Johnny’s, which remained resolutely shut) traveled over to him in an instant and he cleared his throat again – this time more out of nervousness.

Yuta and Sicheng looked away first, making eye contact with _each other_ for a moment of silent communication before Yuta rose from his seat on the floor and held out a hand for Doyoung to get up with him. The three of them exited with quiet murmurs, feet squeaking on the old wooden steps as they ascended. Kun could only here the feint endings of Yuta’s words as he whispered against Doyoung’s hair:

“—not the kind of thing we can decide _for_ you,”

Taeyong didn’t look away at all. His eyes met Kun’s the way they always did. Wide, like the entire ocean was reflected back in them under an inky night sky. If he squinted, he could see the reflection of the moon down the center, twinkling a twilight horror that whispered ‘ _please?_ ’ in a hundred thousand different languages, even though he’d never had the courage to speak aloud what the fuck he was asking for.

Poor idiot must have been sober. Rare.

“Kunnie, can we—”

“I’m here to see Jaehyun,” He interrupted before Taeyong could get started, ignoring the way his girlfriend stirred and scoffed on his behalf. _She_ could be irritated by his cold shoulder if she wanted to, but Taeyong knew better than to complain about his feelings being dismissed. Especially to Kun.

Wordlessly, Taeyong unhooked the earring from his left ear – a small, silver key – and tossed it to Jaehyun, who caught it with a single hand and then stood up to follow behind the others upstairs.

With little option remaining other than making small talk with Taeil, Kun proceeded to do exactly that, crouching down beside the elder male and gesturing towards his phone.

“How’s the flyer coming for your twenties party? _Please_ tell me you’re going full Gatsby themed on this one,”

Taeil smiled, reaching forward to the coffee table and waking the iPad with the tap of a button before navigating to the Photoshop app.

“May I present: Dr. T.J. Eckleberg!” He chuckled out, showing Kun a rather well-crafted graphic design of what was clearly a very, _very_ close up picture of Johnny’s eyes, framed with circular wire lenses and staring vacantly, _vigilantly_ forward. Open and judgmental all at once. Inviting, but unforgiving. _Like the eyes of God_. Of course, it was a deliberate expression for the picture. The symbolism of the book would have been lost if Johnny had posed with the same softly affectionate gaze that he usually wore.

But it was a role that he took on too easily, in Kun’s opinion.

Broadway font promised drinks on the house (a rarity for TNP parties) and early admittance to flappers, sweethearts, and Sapphic poets. All deducing to say that they were filling the house with women first in order to attract lusty men. ( _not_ a rarity for TNP parties).

“Sapphic poets?” He questioned, raising a brow a little incredulously.

“Artistic lesbians,” Taeil translated.

Kun sighed, “Yeah I know what the word _Sapphic_ means, dickhead, I just can’t believe the level of misogynistic _bullshit_ you guys—”

“We’re back!” Yuta interrupted, smiling widely. He’d returned with Jaehyun and another large _clear mason jar_ full of marijuana. Great. Not suspicious at all. Thankfully, Kun had parked fairly close. Sicheng and Doyoung didn’t return but that was likely for the best.

Kun wasn’t overly interested in getting more involved with the goings-on of this fraternity than he already was by endorsing their dealer, so he handed over his cash to Jaehyun and headed out of the door without a second glance, pretending that he couldn’t hear the _hurt_ in the exhale that Taeyong’s mouth released just before the door shut behind him.

 _That_ was a wound long scabbed over, and Kun didn’t have the energy to stick around and watch his former friend pick at it until it started bleeding again. Which, every time he _did_ allow an attempt at conversation, seemed the inevitable end. It was better for him and Ten to just stay away. They were good to each other, held tightly to each other, and were able to accept that Taeyong and Johnny _deserved_ each other.

He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes past noon. Both high schools had a half-day today, so he’d have to seriously pedal it to pick the kids up on time by twelve thirty. Doing his best to cover his purchase in his jacket, he reached his car and shoved it into the glove compartment, shoving a few air fresheners in along with it to be safe. The little shits were _bound_ to try and get a sip out of Ten’s drink later when the dancer was too drunk to properly monitor it, but there was no _way_ he was sharing his pot. Letting them on to the fact that he’d already gotten it gave them more time to start plotting for it.

Nuh uh. Not today.

He drives off campus smoothly, first turning left towards SR Academy, the closer of the two schools. Chenle, Jisung, and Donghyuck were already outside, sitting quite noticeably _separate_ from one another. Well, Chenle and Jisung were side by side, Donghyuck was a bench away from them on his phone. The two younger students already looked like there was a scheme brewing and Kun sighed, pulling up to the curb and honking twice to get their attention.

The three boys approached, Donghyuck sliding in shotgun while the other two piled into the back seat.

“Hi Kun!” The eldest of the three high schoolers smiled out, leaning over the gear shift to plop an uninvited kiss onto Kun’s cheek, “Thanks for picking us up early!”

Similar sentiments were offered from the two in the back seat and he batted them off with a contented sigh. Mischievous as they were, these guys were sweethearts and he couldn’t deny it.

The drive to the local school was only about a five minute trip from the academy, and Renjun came bolting across the street before Kun had a chance to properly U-Turn, sliding into the back on Chenle’s other side with a thousand-watt grin painting his excited face with gentle delight, “Hey everybody! Are we going all together to get Halloween decorations?”

Chenle and Jisung shared a meaningful glance, even if brief – and Kun huffed as he pulled out onto the main road and began heading downtown to the financial district. This was the longest part of his trip every day.

Chenle and Renjun lived together in the three bedroom penthouse of a luxury hotel downtown. From what Kun understood, they were being put up by Chenle’s parents after the boy had convinced them that he was much too delicate for student housing. Which was, frankly, ridiculous. SRA’s dormitories were more pristine than most top of the line condos. What Chenle had really been after was the _freedom_ , Kun expected.

The two boys’ parents both lived out of the country, working together in a large company a significant distance away. With the possibility of commuting from home off of the table and the refusal to live on the campus of his _absurdly prestigious_ academy – the hotel had been the most peaceful solution to Chenle’s persistent tantrums. Even if not the most fiscally jovial. He’d agreed that if he could have the largest suite available for full-time use, he’d share it with another foreign student to create a more ‘authentic’ experience, and Renjun had found himself relieved of the (significantly more uncomfortable) student housing at the local high school. The third bedroom usually housed Jisung despite the fact that he lived in town, or Chenle’s parents when they came to visit and check in.

Perhaps, the only thing Chenle _hadn’t_ considered when he’d bargained his way into his five star home was the impossibility of the _commute_. It was nearly a forty minute drive each way, and just about impossible on public transportation unless you wanted to waste an entire day chasing down busses that only came once an hour and synchronized with _comic_ inconvenience.

Doyoung woke up nearly _two hours_ earlier than he needed to each morning to get the boys to school, and Kun was in charge of taking them  home. Normally, this would be from the Youth Center; or wherever else Mark had hauled them off to during his absurdly busy day, including but not limited to Kun’s own apartment. Jeno and Jaemin were fairly independent, finishing up with their afternoon activities around town and taking the bus to the University Campus, where they needed nothing more than a student escort to the administrative building where Jeno’s mother worked. In Mark’s absence, that came in the form of either Lucas, Jungwoo, or Ten – but usually Lucas.

“I think Ten already bought the decorations, Injunie,” Donghyuck lamented, “Y’know how he gets around Halloween. Mark says the poor guy’s been shopping off his restlessness for like a week,”

Kun nodded to convey the truth of this statement, mind reminding him that Ten wasn’t the _only one_ who’d been restless all week. Honestly their apartment had never recovered from Tau Nu Pi’s Lingerie Party a week and a half prior.

And Ten _was_ always pissy on Halloween.

Again, understandably so. Ten had very few moods, very few opinions, and very few _fits_ that Kun couldn’t rationalize. To be fair, he’d known him the longest after Johnny and Taeyong – and probably knew him the _best_ on top of that. Ten’s mood swings were _vicious_ and often appeared to be _sudden_ for those that didn’t understand them at the root.

“You can still help him decorate with them, though!” Jisung reminded with soft enthusiasm as Kun eased onto the breaks for a yellow light.

Renjun huffed, “You mean _we_ can help him decorate?” He attempted to correct, and Kun peered into the back seat with the rearview mirror when the light went red, catching sight of Chenle and Jisung’s unanimous glare in Renjun’s direction.

“Everything alright back there?” Kun asked, making reflected eye contact with Chenle who nodded eagerly.

“Jisungie and I were gonna pass on Ten’s party this year, if that’s okay …” He confessed, giving into the pressure in Kun’s eyes that demanded he tell the truth.

“Didn’t your parents arrange with Ten for you to go, Chenle?” Renjun asked, although his eyes flickered to Kun. Obviously, this was an attempt to _snitch_ , and not an actual question.

Honestly, Kun wasn’t the right guy to snitch to. He cared about their whereabouts if and only if they were getting into trouble, and had heard just that morning from quite possibly the _most_ reliable source that Mark would be attending Tau Nu Pi’s party. If they wanted to try and sneak in and get that shocker for themselves, that was on them.

Two weekends in the same _month_ of getting busted by Mark. Poor little LeLe was gonna rupture his tonsils shrieking.

“I’ll make sure to let him know you can’t make it,” He allowed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the incredulous expression Jisung had taken on before turning back to the street just in time for the light to go green, “Renjun, are you coming back to N-U with me now, or am I picking you up later?”

 “Um…” The backseat went quiet as the boy gathered his thoughts and Kun merged onto the bypass, thankful that it was a half day and he wasn’t having to drive during rush hour. It made _such_ a difference.

“Jeno’s mom said she can drop us off if I need a ride but … it’s pretty far out of the way for her, isn’t it?” Renjun went on, thinking aloud, “Would it be too much to ask if you can wait while I change before turning around?”

“It’s fine by me. Haechan?” Kun glanced to the passenger seat as Donghyuck shrugged, and then gave an affirmative nod, “Cool, so we’ll wait.”

Chenle gave a humored giggle, “I can’t believe you actually _call him that_ ,”

Donghyuck crossed his arms over his chest, “I asked him to, and he’s actually _nice_ to me, so he listened,”

The request had been an odd one, and likely one that Kun would have ignored if he hadn’t received it with such frantic desperation. Essentially, Donghyuck wanted his ‘name change’ to be in full affect before he actually _arrived_ at the university. While SMU was certainly in possession of the most _notorious_ chapter of Tau Nu Pi, it was definitely not the _only_ chapter of Tau Nu Pi. Their rival university, YGU, also boasted the opportunity to participate in fraternity activity and their last line had introduced a Junior with nearly the same name: Donghyuk Kim.

In fear that he would be referred to at fraternity events as ‘Donghyuck-With-a- _C_ ’ – _their_ Donghyuck had decided to completely reinvent himself.

“I think it’s stupid,” Jisung admitted with a low mutter, “Just be yourself, it shouldn’t matter if—”

“He’s _also_ pursuing a dance major, and _also_ taking the same vocal electives I signed up for, and _also_ a summer pledge. I’m gonna be in the same room with him like … _every time_ I’m off campus!”

Renjun reached a hand forward to give Donghyuck’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, “Don’t worry, Haechannie. Your _real_ friends will call you whatever you ask us to,”

Chenle made his voice higher by several pitches and did a ridiculously poor impression of Renjun: “Your friends _love you_ sweet baby _Haechan_ ,” He squealed out, “Don’t worry, Honey-Bunny! Even as Donghyuck-With-a-‘C’ you’re always _my_ full sun!”

Jisung broke into laughter and Donghyuck looked resolutely forward, brushing Renjun’s hand away with a frustrated exhale. Kun spotted possibly the faintest of blushes on his tan cheeks, but he certainly wasn’t focusing long enough to be sure and he wouldn’t have spoken on it anyway for fear of embarrassing the kid.

When Donghyuck’s embarrassed silence continued, it inspired a collective of giggles from Chenle in the back seat, and moments later, he was straining the passenger-side seatbelt to turn back and scold them. The bickering continued for nearly the entire remainder of the ride, and Kun mentally grounded himself with the repeating inner-reassurance that he would be high out of his mind just as soon as he got back home.

“Renjun can I use your room key since you’re going to Ten’s?” Jisung asked as they unloaded themselves from the car in the hotel parking lot after finally arriving.

“How am I gonna get back in when I get home, stupid?” Renjun retorted, and Kun shut his eyes as their banter drifted peacefully away from his ears, leaving him and Donghyuck in peace while they headed inside.

“You good?” He asked, still feeling the tension radiating from the seat beside him.

Donghyuck sighed, “Chenle’s just mad at me still because I won the contest at the last costume party,”

It really was the _last_ costume party. Not just in the sense that it was the last one Tau Nu Pi had hosted, but also due to the fact that it was the last one they _intended_ to host, having switched to specific themes and strict dress codes instead of allowing their guests a little creativity. Kun was willing to bet that Chenle being ‘mad’ had a big ol’ something to do with that.

“You mean Chenle’s still mad that he poured several hours of labor into something creative and original, only to have it trampled on by Johnny’s bias towards you as a future pledge?” He asked, brow raised as he opened his eyes to look at Donghyuck – who refused to _meet_ his eyes and instead looked down at his hands.

“… It’s not like that,” He insisted, “The Matrix is one of his favorite movies. He said-”

“Johnny’s been declaring new pledges and prospects as the winner of every single competition he’s organized since he was _officiated_ as a judge. Whatever bullshit he’s feeding you is to protect your own confidence and doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your costume,” Kun interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose despite the otherwise impassioned speech. He was too sleep deprived for this shit.

“Why would he let the other’s compete at all, then?” Donghyuck asked, eyes mildly distrusting. He wanted to see the best in Johnny. They all did, Kun supposed. He had wanted to see the best in Johnny too, once. He _had_ seen the best in Johnny. He’d just also seen the worst.

“Because he’s not against being _cruel_ for the sake of his own image,” He answered, happy to unlock the car door for Renjun as he returned.

There was no point in arguing about Johnny. No one ever wanted to hear a single thing said against him, and Kun didn’t have Ten’s will to fight the subject – nor did he experience the same heightened level of _motive_ , beyond the anger he was entitle to as Ten’s best friend.

Best. Not _best-best_.

“I’m ready!” Renjun chirped, crawling across the backseat to make himself more comfortable and setting down a duffle bag beside himself, “I can crash with you guys tonight, right?”

Kun turned the key in the ignition, “Sure, if you help me mop Ten up off the floor after his millionth shot of Smirnoff,”

Why someone with disposable income would choose to drink the world’s shittiest vodka was beyond him, but Ten preferred his alcohol that way. He was a slut for a good box-wine, and an all-out _whore_ for some ten dollar gin. He claimed that having had to drink in secret with what ‘pocket change’ could buy him in high school had just conditioned his taste-buds. Kun expected it was a lot more complicated than that. Everything to do with Ten just felt like it was a lot more complicated than that.

“Me too?” Donghyuck inquired, a little suddenly and a little more desperately. 

 Renjun was bouncing with excitement, “Hyuckie! You’re coming to Ten’s party?!” He cheered, “Jeno and Jaemin are gonna be so excited to see you!  And since it’ll finally be a whole four people we can get in a _really_ good game of ‘Sorry!’ too!”

Donghyuck was touched enough not to mention the fact that Renjun had slipped up and not called him Haechan. Kun smiled, despite a small niggling concern over the change of heart.

“Who’ll defend Mark’s honor without you?” He wondered idly, managing to resist the urge to snicker at the sheer _concept_ of Haechan protecting Mark from any would-be romantic conquests. Hm. More like would-be romantic _conquerors_.

“Uh, Mark actually doesn’t want his honor defended tonight,” Haechan explained, releasing his own small laugh at the hilarity of the situation, “Lucas is sleeping over, and I’m pretty sure I heard him ask if they could put the blow-up mattress on the floor in Taeil and Yuta’s room so … I’m assuming that’s for Sicheng, so … yeah.”

Kun rolled his eyes, “My best guess is that the air-bed is for _Yuta_ , but I’m picking up what you’re putting down,”

Eventually, Kun hoped, Yuta would find a way to show his affection for Sicheng that didn’t involve giving up his bed to sleep on the floor – or any other unnecessarily self-sacrificing acts. For now, it was adorable and hilarious to watch him stumble over himself.

With much more urgency than the eternally timeless future of all things ‘ _eventual_ ’ Kun really hoped that Jungwoo didn’t go to that fucking Halloween party.

Unfortunately, when he arrived back home forty minutes later, he discovered that Jungwoo and Lucas had not only already left for Tau Nu Pi – but that Jungwoo’s phone was perched right on the kitchen counter.

 _Fuck_.

Making the decision right then that he needed to move on from trying to protect his friends from their own poor life choices and just roll a damn joint and smoke it before he got too caught up in his own concerned emotions, he fished some papers out of a shoebox beneath his bed and began to systematically craft himself a good fucking time, since the universe clearly wasn’t going to just offer up a carefree attitude without some sort of medicinal intervention.

There’s a moment of him shutting his eyes in peace as he lights one end of the thing and inhales, and he collapses back into his pillows, grateful for the quiet, the familiar scent of some dope ass weed, and the absence of _furious masturbation._

His mind only flits to Lucas for a brief moment before he finds himself laughing out loud with a divine sense of _clarity_.

Lucas was a virgin. Openly, he was a virgin. He’d complained several times about the ongoing presence of his virginity. Tonight, at Jungwoo’s unfortunate expense (which Kun was going to _ignore_ , thank you very much) Lucas would be _losing_ his virginity.

Mark had prepared and emptied out his bedroom in advance for this. Lucas was fully _aware_ of this. Had likely _asked_ Mark for this.

The fucking idiot was trying to get himself _ready for a full night of sex_. That was why he’d been buffing the banana all god-forsaken week. He was trying to get his _stamina up_ so he could get all sexy and turned out for _Mark Lee_.

What. An. Idiot.

The smoke has almost completely obliterated the lingering stench of Lucas’ balls by the time Ten’s gentle knock raps on the door and Kun barely raises his voice to tell him to come in because their walls are thin as fuck.

“So you told Donghyuck and Renjun that they can sleep over, which is great and all – but I kind of already told Jeno and Jaemin that they could sleep over,” The dancer reported, bending at the knee and getting his ass within about an inch of Lucas’ sheets before promptly changing his mind and sitting on the floor, right atop the line of duct-tape that split their room in half down the middle.

Kun wasn’t neurotic. Just clean. And maybe a little territorial about his space. A little.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, taking another hit and rolling over to his side so he could see Ten better, “We’ve got space for all four of ‘em,” He remarked, telling his brain firmly that he was going to explain the _why_ of that without feeling even a single twinge of guilt or responsibility for anyone’s feelings other than his own.

“Fucking _where_? They’re not the largest people on the planet but four kids on one couch ain’t happening,”

“Jungwoo’s gonna be wanting to sleep with _you_ , so I’ll take his bed and they can split it up two and two in here. We just gotta change Lucas’ sheets … maybe give the mattress a touch of disinfectant spray and a sprits of cologne…”

Ten waved away Kun’s ongoing speculation of how exactly they were going to cleanse the crime scene, “Hey, back up. I’m still stuck on this assurance you have that Jungwoo’s gonna be cool sleeping in my bed. Or, that I’m willing to _let him_ , for that matter. Plus where’s Lucas gonna – oh.”

“Yeah: _Oh_.”

“… _Fuck_!” Ten shouted, pulling his phone out of his pocket immediately. Kun heard the low _clunk_ of Jungwoo’s cell vibrating itself off of the kitchen counter. Whether or not the screen had cracked would likely be the last thing on the poor guy’s mind when he got back.

“Yeah: _Fuck_.” Kun repeated, handing over the joint freely when Ten reached for it and took a greedy puff.

“Gimme your car keys, I’m gonna go get him before—”

“Ten—”

“Kun we _can’t_ let him find out like that we can’t just … just—”

“ _Ten_ —”

“He’s too soft, Kunnie. He’s not _ready_ for that kind of pain yet. What are we gonna—”

“ _TEN!_ ” He’s silent. It’s all giving Kun a strange sense of déjà vu, “There’s nothing we can do,”

Nothing at all, except wait. They couldn’t play at heroes and go crashing into the party in hopes that they could somehow extract Jungwoo before he got his heart broken. They couldn’t call him, and Kun had already _tried_ calling Lucas. It was notoriously impossible to get in touch with Mark, and the rest of Tau Nu Pi was busy with their party planning.

There was nothing Ten could do, and nothing Kun could do when it came to Jungwoo. What Kun _could_ do, was pull Ten into his arms as he watched the other man crumble into tears in front of him. For someone who rarely cried, Ten was getting upset with increased frequency, it seemed. Kun had come home a week prior to find Ten sobbing on the floor in nothing but a _towel_ , sobs wracking through his frail body for hours before he could calm himself.

He’d never said what had fucked him up so bad in the first place, but shit just got hard sometimes, Kun supposed. That event alone (whatever it was) had seemed to break a dam of sorts. Ten had cried at a _commercial_ just two nights ago. He was still weak. Still weary. Still too _soft_ , just as he’d accused Jungwoo of being.

Kun rubbed his back, and said the only thing he could think to say, despite knowing it couldn’t possibly help:

“No one’s _ever_ ready for that kind of pain.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Kun knows why Ten and Johnny aren't friends anymore. Next chapter you get Jungwoo's POV and it's gonna be a good one! Honestly you guys responded so well to the previous chapter and the next chapter is my favorite so that made this one all the more difficult to write because it's kind of sitting in the middle of the two -sweats- but um ... hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> As always, a major thanks to all those who are reading this, especially those comment/kudo/bookmark !! You all feed me so well and I love you so much :')


	6. Sally's Song Pt. 2: Jungwoo POV

Lucas Wong had always been everything that Jungwoo was not. He was charismatic where Jungwoo was shy, rambunctious where Jungwoo was reserved, vivid where Jungwoo was grey, and energetic where Jungwoo was docile. In high school, he’d been an early riser while Jungwoo slept in late – sometimes late enough to miss his first period classes. He’d been naturally, _easily_ intelligent in areas of study where Jungwoo had to work his ass off just to make passing grades. His friends, even those closest to him, always eventually grew to like Lucas more. Jungwoo would be invited to parties if and only if he could bring _Lucas_ along. Girls would approach him flirtatiously, only to ultimately ask if he’d give away _Lucas’_ number.

Lucas wasn’t really seen as approachable at their school. He’d always felt like he was a loser, but from Jungwoo’s perspective that wasn’t exactly the truth. He was a year ahead of Lucas. He’d seen him arrive at school and saw the impact it had inspired in their student body. He was tall, tan, funny, and attractive. Among the rest of their classmates (all overwhelmingly _average_ ) Lucas was untouchable, he just had never really realized it. But he was like _light_ ; a shining star for them to all orbit around.

Or … at least that’s how _Jungwoo_ had always seen him. He was the _sun_.

Of course, once people realized that Lucas was secretly a softy and a total _nerd_ things had taken a bit of a strange turn, but that wasn’t really until near the end of  Jungwoo’s senior year. Vicious rumors had started to spread about a girl, a friend of theirs. Word was traveling quickly and her reputation was endangered by one single, ever present accusation: that she’d bought her new designer purse using money she’d made by selling a sex tape recorded with Lucas Wong. _The_ Lucas Wong.

Jungwoo expected that Lucas had no idea his name was ever worth prefacing.

Considering the fact that Lucas was a really _good_ person, he quickly diminished any rumors of sex tapes by outing himself as a virgin. Which, apparently, at age seventeen at a school notorious for student _mingling,_ was a bit of a shock. When he’d gone on to join the modeling club shortly afterwards, he’d been labeled as a faggot, and that was the end of his three year reign over SM Academy. Jungwoo, at that point a _confirmed cocksucker,_ had never let any allegations of Lucas being gay get to his head one way or the other, and their friendship only strengthened for it.

Well. Strengthened and … _changed_. On _his_ part, at least.

He supposed he might have been harboring feelings for Lucas _before_ considering whether or not the other boy was gay, but it certainly had intensified at the very least. Jungwoo didn’t really care whether or not Lucas was popular with the other kids at their school. He liked that Lucas was _nice,_ and energetic, and handsome, and really smart about some of the most _weird_ things. He was good at sports and looked … just a little _too_ hot in his uniform. Like … like literally _any_ uniform. Jungwoo had been seeing him in uniforms for a while. 

What had started as just _friendship_ had somehow turned into _butterflies_ , quickly morphed into _infatuation_ and had now settled somewhat uncomfortably in the general realm of _love_. Not the sweet kind, like you saw on television – where everything was simple, and everyone thought it was obvious that they should be together except for them. No, no. The real kind. The gross kind. The kind that made Jungwoo do stupid, disgusting, humiliating shit for Lucas.

Like hold the hand mirror while he shaved his balls.

“There’s a _glare_ ,” The younger man complained, hiking his leg up a little higher on their bathroom sink as Jungwoo sighed and tried to readjust the reflective glass so it didn’t hit as much light.

It wasn’t that he’d never imagined himself on his knees face to face with Lucas Wong’s penis before, it was just that in his imagination it was hard, and nice, and pretty. Not flopping around like the stubby trunk of a baby elephant having a temper tantrum.

“You’re supposed to pull the skin _tight_ , idiot…” Jungwoo muttered, watching as Lucas nearly clipped himself with the razor for the _third_ time, “Did you even pre-trim the area?”

Lucas groaned with frustration, giving the razor a rinse in the sink, tugging his balls from a different angle and going back to town with a look of determined concentration planted so firmly on his face that Jungwoo almost shook the mirror in silent laughter, “Of course I didn’t fuckin’ _pre-trim the area_! You think I’m letting an electric razor near my dick? I’d castrate myself in ten seconds flat, for sure.”

Jungwoo supposed that Lucas, not ever one to grow facial hair or _care_ about hair anywhere else on his body (until today, apparently) probably had no idea how safe and guarded most electric razors were. Somehow, the poor idiot seemed to be thinking they were some kind of advanced super-powered _straight razor_ which was a little ridiculous. He figured now wasn’t the time to point that out, so he let it slide, adjusting the mirror again when Lucas’ hand knocked into it.  

“Don’t you think this is taking too long? We’ve gotta leave to get Nana and Jeno in like twenty minutes and trust me, you’re gonna want a shower after shaving,”

Lucas released a noise that could only be described as a distressed squeak and tried to shave _faster_ , letting out a pained wail when the razor got caught in a rather crassly tangled spot. Jungwoo sighed, grabbing the razor from his hand and setting the mirror on the edge of the sink.

“Edge of the toilet. _Now_. Lean back and spread em wide for me, kiddo,”

Again, this was just teetering on the edge of fantasies Jungwoo had thought up before. He’d always pictured _himself_ as the one opening his legs and putting his ass on display, but this was a nice alternative – even if the shaving cream and general cave-man-ish display of Lucas’ taint was a _bit_ of a deterrent.

“Yo,” Lucas muttered, covering his eyes with one arm while the other hand dug nervously into his own thigh, “Don’t make this weird, bro.”

Jungwoo took Lucas’ wash cloth from the hook in the shower and wiped away the shaving cream, running the cloth under warm water in the sink until it was clean again and pleasantly heated. He then brought it back to Lucas’ pubic area, letting the damp warmth of it soften the skin and the hair and rolled his eyes, “It was weird that you asked me to even come in here with you, asshole.”

“Y’know what I mean,” Lucas argued, and Jungwoo _did_ know what he meant. He meant don’t make it _weird_ like the time Jungwoo had whined and pressed his cock against Lucas’ thighs by accident in his sleep while they shared Jungwoo’s bed the summer before he went to college. Don’t make it _weird_ like when Lucas had twisted his nipple after swim practice to be a _platonic-jerk-friend_ and Jungwoo had _moaned_. Don’t make it _weird_ like that time Jungwoo’s boyfriend had broken up with him and Lucas had come over with what must have been five people worth of liquor, and they’d drank and drank and drank and then kissed and kissed and kissed the night away and both pretended it hadn’t happened in the morning.

It had been Lucas’ first kiss, as Jungwoo recalled. He was _proud_ of that. Which was fucked up, because Lucas was _ashamed_ of that, and he knew it.

“I won’t,” He promised, and he meant it. Lucas didn’t look noticeably more _sexy_ just then, even when Jungwoo took the cloth away and couldn’t help but idly notice that his dick was a little more chubbed up from the warm contact than it’d been before, exposed to the cool air. He remained precise, and professional, reaching under the sink to retrieve the scissors he used on his own pubes, giving them a quick wash and a rub down with some alcohol before kneeling down between Lucas’ legs and starting to trim.

When he was satisfied that the hair was just about as short as he could comfortably get it with the scissors, he set them in the sink to be washed again later, and stood up again, shuffling through the cabinet to get the other things he needed and then making himself comfortable on the cool tile of the floor. Next, he began applying the pre-shave oil, dutifully ignoring the fact that his warm fingers rubbing the slick substance over this _particular_ area was definitely getting a bit of a reaction.

“Is this step _completely_ necessary?” Lucas protested, shifting his legs nervously.

“Yes, it lets the razor glide over your skin painlessly. Now hold your dick out of the way before I lose an eye,”

With his lips between his teeth and his brow furrowed, Lucas held his dick against his lower abdomen with the hand that had been on his thigh, keeping the other arm over his eyes seemingly no matter what. Jungwoo wondered if joking that it was rude to look away and pretend someone else was doing it would be categorized as _weird_. Probably so. He managed to resist.

Shaving cream was next, and he completely ignored the cheap shit Lucas had bought, stealing a foamy handful of Ten’s instead, because it was the best in the house and applying a rich lather into the skin. The one thing Lucas _had_ gotten right was the razor. It was fresh out of the box, had multiple sharp blades, and an adjustable head. It fit easily into Jungwoo’s hand and he got right into the flow of things easily.

It was like meditation, almost. Like walking on a tight rope. Lucas’ erection wore off as soon as the cool metal hit his skin, which made everything sag a little bit more, so Jungwoo ended up having to use two hands, but altogether the process was over not even ten minutes after he started. He wiped everything clean with the same wash cloth and stood up.

“There, all done and zero weirdness. Satisfied?”

Lucas finally allowed himself the sense of _sight_ and looked down at his own penis like he’d never seen it before.

“It looks so much _bigger_!” He elated with a wide grin, and Jungwoo shook his head with fond amusement.

“Yeah, no shit – why do you think penis-people _do_ this? It’s not a vagina, genius – the hair isn’t in the way of anything. It just looks nice.”

Lucas was bent over almost in half trying to see his balls properly. It took him almost a full minute to even reach for the hand mirror. Jungwoo was in love with an actual fucking loser, honestly.

“Penis people?” He asked, sitting up once he was content with his reflection, and then promptly distracted, “I like this little short patchy bit in the front. Makes me feel classy as fuck,”

“Don’t worry, that feeling’s gonna evaporate pretty quickly for ya. And yeah, penis-people. Yuta passed that on to Sicheng who has now passed it on to me. Not all people with penises are men, so when you’re talking about penis-specific things it’s better to just say penis-people.”

Lucas smiled at Jungwoo’s explanation, “Fuck yeah, stay woke!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jungwoo made for the door to escape Lucas’ now nearing on _manic_ level of happiness, “Use antiseptic and then body powder before you put underwear on, both are in the linen closet,”

Jungwoo went back to his bedroom to get himself ready for the rest of his day. After Lucas picked Jeno and Jaemin up, they were heading out to find him an outfit that fit the theme of the twenties party, and then going straight to the party from there to save some money on transportation. He was well beyond the age where he put on his _best_ outfits just to be at the mall of all places, but this was the first time he and Lucas had done anything _just_ the two of them in literally forever, and he planned on taking a fair share of pictures, so he had to at least find a shirt that didn’t have pre-shave oil on it.

“If I wear light wash jeans, does that mean I can’t wear my dark wash jean jacket?” He mused to Ten, who was resting on his stomach with one headphone in, staring intently at the screen of his MacBook Pro.

“I’m not helping you get dressed to _ditch me_ , traitor. How about the perfectly fine Halloween costume that’s already laid out on your recliner, since you bought it _weeks ago_ when we _made plans_ ,”

Ten’s concentration face was genuine but the harshness of his tone was not. Jungwoo came over to his bed and squatted down to eye level so he could see what was on the screen. It was his final project with Taeyong, and the choreography was … fucking flawless. Even so, Ten was giving it a critical eye, looking for missteps or miscalculations. Jungwoo kissed his cheek and watched the corners of his mouth turn up.

Good. Ten was totally not mad at him.

He was attached to the jeans, so he skipped the jacket and opted for a black T-Shirt that was almost definitely Ten’s even though it had migrated to Jungwoo’s side of the closet. Finders keepers! Plus, it was attractively fitted on him and probably way too large on Ten.

Double-plus: It was Armani and still had the tags on it. Jungwoo wasn’t a snob in any sense of the word about any aspect of his life, but wearing Egyptian cotton shirts was nice, because the fabric was always a little thicker and a little softer, and he liked the feel of it against his skin.

“Oh shit,” Jungwoo muttered, glancing at the time on his phone and noticing that it was blinking at one percent, “Can I use your portable charger?”

“If you can find it,” Ten answered, and Jungwoo heard what _must_ have been Lucas coming back from picking up Jeno and Jaemin because why else would there suddenly be three distinctly different patterns of foot-fall in the living room all of a sudden? Any other combination of Lucas plus Dream would have been _much louder_.

“Ready to go?!” Lucas called out, and Jungwoo looked down at his phone, conflicted. It wasn’t like he was in _danger_ out with Lucas. If there was an emergency or something he could just use Lucas’ phone, and he really wanted to spend the time together without outside distraction anyway, if he was being honest.

But what about their pictures?

“How about your camera?” He asked, instead, and Ten finally _looked_ at him.

“You’re needy, today.”

Lucas called him again, and he shot Ten a more pleading look, pouting his lip for added effect.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s on the bookshelf. Don’t look back through the camera roll, you’ll regret it!”

Okay, _ew_.

Ten’s review of his final was apparently done, because he came out with Jungwoo to the living room, quickly preoccupying himself with Jeno and Jaemin, who were now begging him to unlock the storage unit downstairs so they could look through all of his board games. Ten agreed, and went with them to help carry all of it (the larger, more expensive Halloween decorations that were recycled year by year were down there, too) and Jungwoo plugged in his phone and tucked the hand-held digital camera into the back pocket of his jeans, giving Lucas an award winning smile, “Alrighty, let’s go!”

The shuttle ride was quick and somewhat uneventful, full of laughter at cheap jokes, and the snap of what must have been more than fifty pictures. As instructed, Jungwoo didn’t look back on any of Ten’s pre-shot footage, and he didn’t know if it was the kind of camera that would play the camera roll from the end or the beginning, so he didn’t check any of theirs, either. Ten would send them to him digitally when he had the chance, he figured.

“This bus ride is like … seven hundred times better than the one to the more expensive mall,” Lucas noted when Jungwoo complained about their _second_ bus. He had no idea when Lucas had gotten more savvy with this area’s transportation system than he had, but it was pretty apparent.

“Mark was telling me about how long it used to take him to get Chenle back and forth before Kun stepped in, and it’s a fucking nightmare,”

Jungwoo poked Lucas in the stomach playfully, “Y’know you’ve started just about every other sentence with the words ‘ _Mark was telling me_ ’ for the last half hour. I’m starting to think you might be a little bit more than friendly with Mark Lee,”

It was a joke. A _joke_. Until it wasn’t.

“Yeah, uh … I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Lucas awkwardly bit out, scratching the back of his head.

“What?” Jungwoo asked, genuinely confused and knowing that it showed on his face. He didn’t get an answer because they reached their stop, and when they got _off_ of the bus, they were running across the intersection to hit the mall entrance before cars started speeding down the freeway. When Lucas hollered over the wind in Jungwoo’s ears that the last one to Auntie Annie’s Pretzel Stand was a rotten egg, he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, and when he screeched to a poorly coordinated halt in front of the Pretzel stand, a few brief seconds _after_ Lucas, and saw that Mark was already standing there waiting for them – he really _did_ feel like a rotten fucking egg.

“Hey babe,” Mark murmured softly, reaching out a hand to steady Lucas by the waist, since he had _also_ arrived with a bit too much momentum, “I get that  you’re late, but maybe not late enough to run full speed through a crowded shopping center, yeah?”

Babe.

_Babe_.

Would curling up into a ball of stupid fucking blind idiot and crying on the floor in the middle of a mall food court be _making it weird_?

Yeah. Yeah, it would.

“I brought Jungwoo, and we raced,” Lucas explained, once he caught his breath properly.

He _brought_ Jungwoo. Not that they were supposedly _here_ for _Jungwoo’s clothes_. Now he was just an accessory to … to their _date_ or whatever the fuck this was. No fucking shit, Lucas had been _meaning to talk to him about that_.

“I should go,” Jungwoo blurted out, having been hurt enough times in his life to know that blinking rapidly was not going to stop the tears and resolving to just try not to close his eyes at all.

“Huh? No way! We never hang out all three of us,” Lucas whined, with as much desperation and _need_ as Jungwoo had earlier been feeling at the prospect of hanging out just the _two_ of them. Him and his best friend. His best friend who he was very, very in love with, who was now peer pressuring him into spending an entire evening with him and his _boyfriend_ , “Plus, you need clothes for the party tonight!”

Ten’s sister had once come over for the weekend and during that time, drunkenly told both of them with absolutely no regard for either of their genitals that the key to escaping any situation in which you didn’t feel like shopping was to claim that you just that very second got your period. It was an odd memory to recall right then, and one that couldn’t possibly assist him.

“I don’t … I don’t know, Lucas. I’m thinking about it and I’m not sure I’ll have a good time.” This seemed to confuse Mark a great deal, if his facial expression was anything to go by. Somehow, that stung the _worst_. Not because of Mark’s confusion in and of itself, but more primarily because Lucas was so _willfully_ oblivious that he refused to experience confusion at all. There wasn’t a moment where Lucas stopped to wonder if his actions would _hurt people_ – which was just a little hypocritical, in Jungwoo’s opinion, considering how self-righteous Lucas was about others who operated with a similar lack of discretion.

Like Johnny, for example.

“You one of those people who thinks being at Tau Nu Pi on Halloween night is bad luck?” Mark wondered idly, handing over cash for a pretzel that Jungwoo hadn’t even noticed him ordering.

The superstition was one that he’d heard, of course, but as he was pretty sure that Ten had _invented it_ , he was certainly not one to be thwarted by such ridiculousness. If he _wanted_ to go. The thing was, at this point he kind of _didn’t_ want to go, and it was an easy out.

“Uh, yeah something like that, I guess,” He agreed, shoving his hands nervously into the pockets of his jeans and feeling his shoulders rise with tension. He could feel the cool metal press of Ten’s digital camera against his fingers, and didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d managed to snap a few shots of him and Lucas already. Would his eyes look different in the pictures? Would he be able to tangibly _see_ that his heart was still whole?

_Don’t look back through the camera roll, you’ll regret it!_

Ten was a fucking prophet. Or maybe just a wise disciple. Maybe Jungwoo was the prophet and Lucas was currently delivering his Judas Kiss. Did that make Mark the Romans? Come to crucify him? He thought not. Jungwoo wasn’t important enough to be anyone’s Lord or God. He was just a movie extra. Blasted into bits during some generic explosion scene, so the audience could watch blood drip down a pretty face for the pathos appeal. His pain existed to be ogled at. Related to. Jungwoo was the kind of guy people loved to feel sad for, so they didn’t have to focus on their own shit. He knew that, but … it didn’t really make it hurt less when it was _his_ shit. Especially considering he didn’t have a convenient distraction to empathize with, like his friends all did.

Well that wasn’t entirely true. There was Ten, after all. He had a major pathos appeal, too – in a kind of biting, pitiful, unwanted way.

 Lucas pulled him out of his thoughts with the same abrupt effortless manor that he was currently displaying as he pulled Jungwoo’s hands out of his pockets and pressed them between his own. Warm. Lucas’ body was physically warm to the touch, but not clammy. Of course not. He wasn’t nervous, or afraid, when he twined their fingers together. Why would he be? What could Jungwoo offer that would induce any anxiety in him at all?

He’d bet his last dollar on _payday_ that Lucas’ hands felt as damp and clammy as his freshly shaven balls had that morning when _Mark_ held them. Because holding hands with Mark was _important_.

His eyes burned. He didn’t blink and didn’t swallow, feeling spit pool in his mouth – thick and disgusting.

“Remember how in high school I could never get into parties unless _you_ were invited?” Lucas asked, offering what he must have found to be a properly encouraging smile.

It hadn’t been like that, though. Jungwoo had been invited because he was frail. Soft. Unintimidating. Pretty girls weren’t afraid to talk to him, or afraid that he’d say no.

“I couldn’t go either, unless I agreed to bring you,” He reminded Lucas, who scrunched his nose up as if he had completely forgotten that part of their history.

“That’s not true,” Lucas tried to argue, shaking his head like he could shake away the stark honesty of what had really happened if he got his hair fluffed out enough. Like he could shake away the times Jungwoo got _weird_. Like he could shake away the night they’d kissed for hours, deep and desperate and … drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk. People like Lucas did things they wished they hadn’t when they were drunk, “Remember Mingyu’s Homecoming party? You got invited to that your Junior year even though he was a Senior!”

Jungwoo rolled his eyes, tears momentarily abated for the sake of this … argument? Were they going to _argue_ about this?

“Ya, that’s cus I sucked him off in the cabana of his parent’s country club that summer and he was looking for round two, not cus anyone fucking _liked me_ , Lucas.”

Mark laughed around a mouth full of Pretzel and Jungwoo mused that even now, he wasn’t quite cruel enough of a person to have even momentarily wished for him to choke. He liked Mark. He fucking _liked_ Mark, because Mark was a _great fucking guy_ and this fucking sucked. A lot.

“I have _been there_ , dude,” Mark managed to chime in after swallowing down the bread, “I mean invited to shit _just_ cus people wanted sex. It’s shit, yeah? I mean for me, that didn’t really start happening until college but hey man, no judgement.”

He clapped a hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder. Great, now they were _both_ touching him. It sullied the contact with Lucas enough that he pulled his hands free, creeping them back into his pockets with a mildly frustrated suck of the teeth.

“If it counts for anything,” Mark continued to speak, “I like the _fuck_ out of you, and I’m totally one hundred percent sure that not a single person at the party tonight is expecting you to give ‘em a blow job.”

Jungwoo managed at least a small smile at the poorly aimed joke, despite the fact that it missed its target by far. Shit like that wasn’t really funny to him. Getting used up and washed out and left to hang dry by himself wasn’t really funny to him. It’d happened too many times to be worth a laugh.

“Plus,” Lucas added, “Hyuckie has gone through a lot of work getting Mark to agree that Jisung and Chenle could come to the party tonight, and they totally _don’t know_ he agreed to it and don’t know he’s gonna be there. How fuckin’ hilarious is it gonna be to watch them scampering around trying to hide from him?”

Maybe Jungwoo was the only person who didn’t find the distress of other people humorous at all. Maybe that was his problem. He _did_ harbor a slight bit of worry at this news, though. He’d been expecting Chenle and Jisung at Ten’s party tonight. While just _yesterday_ , it could have been argued that Mark _and_ Lucas being present meant that the two youngster’s protection was firmly under wraps, things were a little different now that they were _dating_ , weren’t they?

He should at _least_ like … let someone know to look out for them. Jungwoo could go for a minute, he guessed, and just … talk to Yuta or Sicheng or something to make sure somebody was keeping an eye on the kids. Then he’d leave.

“Mark?” Jungwoo asked, and if it was any other moment but this one, he’d have smiled at the way Mark’s eyes widened and his entire face got more alert just from calling his name, like an overexcited dog, “Y’think you could get me in wearing what I have on?”

Mark did look down at his outfit a little skeptically, but ultimately, he nodded, “The only person anal enough to actually enforce dress code on anybody once they make it past the front door has a _major_ soft spot for you, actually – so yeah.”

Jungwoo had no idea who Mark was referring to and decided he didn’t care to know.  He was sick of being people’s _soft spot_. He was sick of being fucking _soft_.

It was agreed that he’d tag along and try the party out, and also agreed that he’d stick around with them at the mall because apparently, they didn’t have anything to wear either and actually wanted to participate in the twenties theme. Lucas was beaming so hard from being around the two of them at once that he could take up a part time job standing on the beach as a fucking lighthouse, and Jungwoo was telling himself that it shouldn’t mean anything to him even though it meant _everything_ to him.

He managed not to vomit directly on the spot when Mark and Lucas kissed. He excused himself and his bile to the bathroom when Lucas idly pointed out to Jungwoo that Mark had been his _first_ kiss.

More of their history _mangled and erased_ at Lucas’ convenience. Fucking great.

He did throw up, and he hadn’t eaten much so it wasn’t a really great experience (not that heaving the contents of your stomach up into the toilet bowl ever _was_ a great experience) and then he cried for a little bit in the bathroom, and then he washed his face, pinched some color back into his cheeks, and came out with a smile that matched the grin on Lucas’ face in every aspect apart from authenticity.

They’d learned to flawlessly mirror each other’s facial expressions in their Drama elective, sophomore year. Jungwoo wondered if that was a part of their past that Lucas had re-written, too.

 “Tonight is gonna be _fucking awesome_!” Lucas delighted, bouncing on his toes with one hand holding a shopping bag and the other holding a Gatorade, purchased for about twice its market value as an impulse buy at the last queue they’d trailed through, rather than the much cheaper price he could have paid for it if they’d just circled back to the food court. Lucas was lazy like that. _Careless_.

“Yeah,” Mark agreed, smiling at something private that Jungwoo did not understand and would not attempt to decipher, “This party should be really, really great.”

It wasn’t.

Mark had apparently borrowed Johnny’s car to get to the mall (Neither Jungwoo or Lucas had known Johnny even _had_ a car) and he drove them all back in it, parking cleanly in the garage upon arrival, which allowed them to enter through the kitchen. Jungwoo was grateful for this because it meant he didn’t have to pay a cover at the door, and didn’t get questioned on his highly inappropriate choice of apparel.

Jisung and Chenle were easy to spot, because Chenle let out a blood-curdling _screech_ as soon as he spotted Mark, and took cover behind Jungwoo _immediately_. Jisung tried to join him, but was just a little too _tall_ to properly cower the way he’d have needed to for full coverage, but Mark did an excellent job of pretending not to have noticed them at all, and they breathed out sighs of relief that tickled at Jungwoo’s neck enough to send him into a fit of giggles.

Laughter was healing. But not for long enough.

“Chenle you idiot, now we’re gonna _miss it!”_ Jisung was complaining, and Chenle urged him to shut up, which rose Jungwoo’s suspicion about tenfold.

It took approximately thirteen seconds to realize what they didn’t want to _miss_ , and moments later Jungwoo was provided the knowledge that someone had bet Taeyong some substantially large amount of money that he wouldn’t snort a line of coke from Johnny’s armpit.

A bucket of water, some soap, a fresh razor, and a few cotton balls of rubbing alcohol later, Taeyong was a wealthier man. Johnny had apparently slept through the entire ordeal and would later wake up with a single clean-shaven armpit, which Chenle found hilarious. Jisung added to a note in his phone that apparently contained a composite list of every single drug he’d seen Taeyong under the influence of, and how each one affected him. He explained that this was a reference guide in case he decided to pursue any of his own exploration when he was in Tau Nu Pi himself.

Jungwoo wanted to go home, and he said so to just about every single person who was forward enough to ask him why he was being such a wallflower.

He didn’t like parties like this. He wasn’t sure he liked parties _at all_.

He hadn’t spotted Yuta, Sicheng, or anyone _else_ in Tau Nu Pi apart from Taeyong, who was currently dancing with some girl so closely that Jungwoo wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t have his cock inside of her _right here_. And Johnny, who was thoroughly passed out on the couch and showed no sign of consciousness whatsoever.

He just wanted to find someone he _knew_ so he could make them keep an eye on the kids and then find a way to get the fuck out of here. Word had spread pretty quickly that all of the shuttles were down for the night, after some assholes had carried out an extravagant prank that rendered three of the six busses in rotation completely useless.

So now he needed a babysitter _and_ a ride. Kun would surely have come to get him in a heartbeat, but he didn’t have his phone and … basically he was stuck here until further notice.

Which already sucked a whole lot before his eye caught sight of Mark and Lucas making out on the landing of the stairs. Like … really, _really_ making out. Lucas’ face was flushed that pretty color it got when he was out of breath after completing his set at the gym, and his mouth was hanging ajar, chest heaving as he squirmed against the wall. He was arching his neck back to make more room for Mark’s mouth, which sucked at the skin there, and rocking his hips up into Mark’s hand which was down his pants, most likely enjoying the nice, smooth shave that Jungwoo had provided just that morning.

Lucas moaned loudly enough that Jungwoo could hear it over the music, and when it drew the attention of someone else, who’d been leaning against the banister, Mark pressed their bodies even closer together, whispering something into Lucas’ ear and then dragging him up the rest of the stairs – presumably, to his bedroom.

He felt the panic attack in his chest before it properly hit his brain. He felt the way his heart started beating much, _much_ too fast, the way that he couldn’t … fuck he … couldn’t fucking _breathe_. Fucking _shit_ he couldn’t _breathe fuck fucking shit fucking hell-_

“Jungwoo?”

By the grace of some God or guardian angel, it was Yuta. Jungwoo collapsed into his chest like the pain was in his _legs_ , despite the fact that it was tearing a hole through his entire stomach, and Yuta didn’t seem to need an explanation, wrapping his arms tightly around him and pulling him towards the very same flight of steps that Lucas had just … had just …

He hadn’t noticed that he was thrashing until Yuta was hushing him.

“Shhh, it’s okay, c’mon. We’ll go straight to my room, I promise.”

Jungwoo guessed that something about him could be interpreted as agreement, because he was successfully hauled upstairs, greeted with a long hallway, and taken into a small bedroom. He was set down not on what he could tell was Yuta's bed, but rather on a twin-sized air mattress that had been blown up on the floor in _front_ of Yuta’s bed.

Yuta’s bed itself was occupied by Sicheng and Jaehyun, who were deeply involved in weighing out small, eighth gram bags of marijuana with a food scale that Jungwoo was pretty sure Sicheng had taken with him from Ten’s when he’d moved out. He noticed this in a half-awake _haze_ , feeling tears drip from his cheeks to his collarbones and sniffling loudly.

Taeil poked his head down from the top bunk to see what was wrong.

This room was barely big enough for the two people who it belonged to, and _five_ people _plus_ the air mattress was cramped enough that Jungwoo was starting to feel claustrophobic on top of everything else.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?” Taeil asked with avid concern, climbing down from his bed and bringing the walls in _closer_.

Johnny called Jungwoo Sweetheart. Never called him anything else, actually. Apparently, Taeil had picked that up. Frankly, they weren’t close enough for him to be touched, and _physically_ – they were _much more close_ than he was comfortable with.

“Y-Yuta?” He whined out, wordlessly gesturing around the room and releasing a sound that he hoped made somewhat clear that he was kind of uncomfortable having his crying fit in front of four other fucking people, but that the crying fit demanded to be had regardless of this fact and he was going to _break_ like fucking _glass_ shattered all over their space if he didn’t get the fuck out of here.

Yuta understood and valued privacy a lot, Jungwoo remembered. He’d get it, right?

Oddly, it was not  Yuta that gave him his escape.

“You wanna go lay down in my bed, Jungwoo?” It was Jaehyun who asked, climbing out from his pile of drugs like it was already decided. Everyone seemed to just be moving him around without much consultation, but he couldn’t really complain.

“I um … I don’t-” He tried to protest, even as Jaehyun took him by the elbow and exited back into the hall.

“It’s too crowded in there, right? I get it.”

He probably didn’t get it, but whatever. That didn’t really matter. None of this fucking mattered, he just wanted to find an empty room to be humiliated in _privately_ , and then find a way home.

“Here, you can rest in my bed while I find you a ride home, alright?” Jaehyun offered, opening up the door to what Jungwoo could only assume was his bedroom, “There’s nobody in here, see?”

Maybe he did get it.

It takes Jungwoo about two minutes of sobbing like a _stupid baby_ into the pillow beneath his face before he sniffles deeply enough to realize that he’s not on Jaehyun’s bed. It wasn’t really clear which bed belonged to which boy in here, as the entire thing was nearly symmetrical – still bearing the décor that this room was likely _designed_ with as neither Doyoung or Jaehyun seemed overly enthusiastic about personalizing their space.

But this wasn’t Jaehyun’s bed. This was Doyoung’s bed. Jungwoo knew this because this was not the first time he’d ever been hiccupping through tears as he inhaled _Eau Du Dongyoung_ , and he’s a little embarrassed as the mortifying memory of the _other_ time he’d ended up crying through the homey scent of whatever-the-fuck-this-guy-smelled-like.

It had been middle school. During the summer between school years while Lucas was on that trip with his family to the Bahamas. Lucas had come back so _brown_ and _tan_ and _perfect_ that it was no wonder Jungwoo never put much thought or recollection back into his own summer activities. He much preferred to recall the utter perfection of Lucas’ evenly bronzed skin than the complete humiliation he’d suffered at camp while Lucas was away.

It had been a camp his vocal instructor had recommended to his parents for him. One that would apparently hone his skills to perfection to prepare him to get more solos at the school that fall. He’d met Kim Dongyoung that summer during the camp’s initial warm up and sorting process, where they were split up by their vocal range into their separate cabins. Altos with Altos, Tenors with Tenors, etc. Due to their somewhat similar ability to croon ‘Mommy Made Me Mash My M&M’s’ along with the grand piano in the auditorium, he’d been assigned to share a room with Dongyoung.

That’s when he’d first experienced _the smell_. It wasn’t like the kid really wore any cologne at that point. They were twelve years old, for fucks sake – what would he have cologne on for? He just smelled … nice. Not abrasive. Clean, and like _boy._ They’d all been boys, but Kim Dongyoung didn’t smell like _outside_ he just smelled like … Jungwoo’s dad when he’d wake him up in the morning in a bathrobe after having his shower. No aftershave, no fragrance in particular. Just … _clean_. Comfortable.

They didn’t speak much. To compare Dongyoung’s smooth, honeyed, _siren song_ with Jungwoo’s throaty squeaking was ridiculous, and despite being sorted as if they were capable of the same talents, Dongyoung remained a lot more popular and a lot more _busy_ at camp. Besides, Jungwoo had been busy himself, FaceTiming Lucas at every given opportunity: watching his skin turn into gold and his smile turn into a warm heat that spread through Jungwoo’s body so violently that he was amazed it didn’t make his heart stop.

Sharing a room with Kim Dongyoung and his _smell_ hadn’t really served as a memorable or relevant part of his summer experience. He hadn’t made any friends at camp. At all. The only instance that was even remotely pertinent was _the incident_. Namely, the end of summer concert, in which Jungwoo had been expected to perform a solo in front of the entire camp and their families and had, instead, _sobbed_ – like a _stupid baby_ into his hands, for a moment, and then into _Kim Dongyoung’s clean smelling chest_ for a much, much more prolonged period of time.

Dongyoung had told one of the Big Kids who were in charge of making things run smoothly backstage that Jungwoo wouldn’t be going on because he had a stomach flu and he was throwing up. Later, Jungwoo would learn that the Big Kid in question had been Taeil Moon. Later, Jungwoo would learn that Dongyoung went to a prestigious boarding school several countries away and was on track to attend the companion high school in the same country. Later, Jungwoo would realize that the camp had been insanely priced and that his parents had nearly broken bank for him to have that opportunity, and he’d fucked it all up. Sobbing. Like a stupid baby.

Like he was _now_. A decade _later_ than all of those too-late realizations.

The smell comforts him, as it did then, and he finds himself wanting to cling a little more tightly to the sheets of Dongyoung’s unmade bed, despite knowing that this is wholly inappropriate and that it was _Jaehyun_ who told him he could be in here and most, _most_ importantly – that little _Kim Dongyoung_ with the smile too big for his fucking face and the warm hands was now _Doyoung Kim_ , the most anticipated and successful vocal major of SM’s already elite vocal program, the treasurer of Tau Nu Pi, and altogether _not at all_ the same person who’d been not-even-really-his-friend one horrible summer ten years ago, and _not at all_ any better than most of the dick bags in this frat, and _not at all_ responsible for drying Jungwoo’s tears.

He hadn’t been _then_.

Jungwoo is just about to work up enough strength to pry himself off of Doyoung’s bed and either into Jaehyun’s or out of the window when the door opens. There’s a fleeting, _terrible_ moment where he hopes it’s Lucas, with an apology on his sweet lips and enough sorrow in his eyes for Jungwoo to forgive him _instantly_ ; the way he always, _always_ does.

“Hey, little guy…” It’s Doyoung and Jungwoo knows it’s Doyoung before he even starts talking because he can fucking smell him, “Looks like you’re having a rough night,”

There’s no greater understatement and he feels like he’s about to vomit. His breath hitches _violently_ and there is a moment where he swears he can _hear them_ across the hall. Fucking. Mark and Lucas. Lucas and Mark.

Jungwoo was a fucking idiot for thinking anyone would notice _him_ with a force as powerful as _Mark Lee_ out there. Him. An actual living, breathing, personification of the word _weak_.

“Rough life is more like it,” He muttered, sniffling loudly enough that it drowned out the sound of what may or may not have been a moan that sounded a little bit _too_ identical to that time in high school that he’d walked in on Lucas jerking off by accident. Well. Half-accident. He’d _suspected_ that he might be interrupting something, but he’d been too curious to catch just a _glimpse_ of—

“How about I take you home?”

Doyoung talks as prettily as he sings, with over a dozen _years_ of top dollar vocal training. There’s an even and melodic quality to the way that he forms the most mundane of words, and Jungwoo feels like he’s being touched by a humanoid lullaby when the dark-haired man rests a hand on his shoulder. His eyes look concerned. His eyes look like he _cares_ and it strikes Jungwoo that maybe … he _does_.

“Haven’t you been, um…” He pauses. He can’t help it. His throat is burning and raw, his tongue is thick, and he feels like he swallowed something large and inedible. Maybe he’s having an allergic reaction to getting his heart broken. That would fit his personality just fucking perfectly wouldn’t it? Weak. Weak, weak, _weak_.

“Drinking?” Doyoung finishes for him, before shaking his head softly, “No. I knew I’d be driving tonight, anyway, so I laid off the booze. It’s really no trouble, I’m heading in your direction. C’mon, let’s get going,”

There isn’t any room for Jungwoo to protest as Doyoung clasps their hands together and guides him into a standing position. He’s shaky on his feet and feels stupid, though. Like a newborn horse baby. What were horse babies called?

“Do you need anything from downstairs? Jacket, maybe? I noticed you don’t have your phone…”

Foals. They were called foals.

“I left my phone and my jacket at home,” He manages to speak, which impresses him. Apparently, his allergic reaction to heartbreak isn’t severe enough to hinder him for long, which is good. Doyoung grabs a jacket from where it was folded over his desk chair and guides Jungwoo into it, one arm at a time, before zipping it up to his chin. Jungwoo sniffles, then sneezes, and Doyoung smiles so wide that his entire face looks like he was going to split open.

“You’re so cute,” He compliments, ruffling Jungwoo’s hair before throwing an arm over his shoulders and leading him out of the bedroom.

Jungwoo has no idea how to reply to that, and is mildly put off that Doyoung is accusing him of being appealing in any way at all when his eyes are puffy and bloodshot and his nose won’t stop running and he’s pretty sure that despite the overwhelming amount of saliva in his mouth as it attempts to lube his throat up enough to swallow down the invasive _lump_ that’s made a home there – his lips are chapped.

Rather than offering any semblance of gratitude for the obviously _misguided_ praise, he closes his shoulders in tighter to his body, making himself just small enough to fit down the stairs beside Doyoung without having to fall a step behind or ahead of him, and changes the subject altogether:

“Sorry I got in your bed without asking. I thought it was Jaehyun’s,” They navigate through the foyer with no interruption, a path clearing for Doyoung as he proceeds forward. It’s surreal, to Jungwoo, that someone could be so _important_ in a house full of veils and misconceptions. How could one possibly earn respect from people so vacant and shallow? Well … earn it, sure. But _maintain_ it?

His eyes flicker over to Johnny, just barely visible through the sea of people. He’s still sleeping soundly on the couch, with no sign of rising. Chenle is bent over with a sharpie marker, drawing on his face and Jisung is leaning over to take a sip from the straw of a red solo cup that someone had placed in Johnny’s unfeeling hand. He looked _dead_.

“It’s a common mistake,” Doyoung forgave, without even a hint of upset, “And don’t worry about Johnny, he’ll be good as new in a few hours. It’s a sleep day for him,”

Now, _that_ was enough to catch Jungwoo’s genuine interest, “A sleep day?”

Doyoung nodded, opening the front door and accepting a rather large wad of cash from Taeyong in the hand that wasn’t still warmly weighted against Jungwoo’s shoulder. He puts the money in the satchel bag that seemed to be eternally slung over his chest, and continues on down the porch steps and over to the driveway like nothing happened.

“Yeah. Fucker stays up six days in a row out of the week, then crashes for a full day. Sometimes a day and a half. He’s like … completely comatose right now, but he’s been like that for about 23 hours at this point, so I figure he’ll be awake any minute with all that noise around him,” Ever the gentleman, Doyoung holds open the passenger side door for Jungwoo to get in, and he does so, buckling his seatbelt with a muted _click_ before the driver’s side door is even opened.

“He’s gotta be on some kind of drugs, right?” Jungwoo asks, not able to stop himself. There was no way that Johnny was living _six days of life_ with his level of energy and no sleep unless he was turning up in some form or another. There just wasn’t.

“Adderall,” Doyoung answers with only the _slightest_ second of hesitation. He must have spotted the truth for what it was: Jungwoo had absolutely no one to give this information to that could do Johnny any harm with it.

Ten might try his best but … there were very few things about Johnny that Ten didn’t actually already _know_. If he’d been up-keeping an addiction to _anything_ , it was doubtless that Ten was both aware and enraged at this point without Jungwoo spilling any beans whatsoever.

“Adderall.” He repeated back, feeling the word in his mouth and frowning in confusion. It was familiar sounding, he thought. Wait, wasn’t – “But Chenle takes Adderall for his ADHD and it makes him _more_ sleepy,”

Doyoung laughed to himself as he pulled the car out of the driveway and Jungwoo frowned, not understanding what the joke was but understanding well enough that he was on the butt end of it. He realized, in this brief moment of unhappiness, that he’d stopped crying about Mark and Lucas at some point, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened.

“You don’t really do any kind of drugs at all, do you?” Doyoung asked, speeding through a yellow light to avoid the long red that Jungwoo was used to Kun cussing at for the full seventy four seconds it took for it to change to green.

“I’m a vocalist,” He answered, thinking it was obvious. Doyoung was a vocalist _too_ after all. A much better one, at that, “I might not be _Doyoung Kim_ , but I’m smart enough to know that even _Aspirin_ heightens the risk of vocal fold hemorrhage. I’ll take half of a Tylenol if I absolutely _need to_ for muscle aches but that’s about it,”

Doyoung looked, if anything, _confused_ by Jungwoo’s name drop. As if he was completely unaware of his own talent, which was, frankly, _ridiculous_. He’d snagged every single solo opportunity he’d ever tried out for in his _life_ , and it was a known fact that along with Jaehyun and Taeil, he held a solid _monopoly_ on the closing act for the end of the year concert. Surely, he understood that he was an amazing singer, right?

Wrong, if the surprise on his face was anything to go by.

“Paracetamol,” Doyoung finally said, clearing his throat gently, “Good choice. Less harsh on the body all around,”

Jungwoo snorted, “What _are_ you? Some kind of walking pharmacy?”

“No, but I live with one. I think Taeyong’s addicted to _addiction_ , if I’m being honest…”

Their conversation fizzles out quickly into nothingness as they round the last corner before it’s a straight shot home, and Jungwoo muses that this is a pretty long ride compared to the usual six minutes that Kun always claims it takes to get from Tau Nu Pi to N-U. Especially considering Doyoung is notoriously the faster driver.

It’s then that he realizes the universe outside of this car still exists. It’s Halloween night, and a glance out of the window reveals that the campus is crowded and rowdy. There’s a slew of students running around, walking randomly into the street, chasing after one another with fistfuls of candy and eyes full of delight. The clock claims it’s only 10 O’clock in the evening. Tau Nu Pi’s party has barely started, and those who mean to arrive fashionably late are milling around together.

Jungwoo had barely lasted there for a full hour. And Doyoung … was already _leaving_ after an hour?

His lips part to question it, but before he gets the question out properly, they’re parking – and as they’re _parking_ everything starts to get really, really, _really_ fucking clear. All at once, like getting struck by lightning. It _burns_. Not in his throat, like crying, but in his _blood_ like … like _anger._ He’s angry. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s happening _quickly_ now, and he can’t stop it from trickling white-hot through his veins.

“Dongyoung, what the _fuck_!” He notices a moment too late that he’s calling the man by his _childhood_ name, rather than his new, shiny, _college_ name. Fuck that. He doesn’t care. They’re parked in the teachers lot. The _teachers lot_. And it’s not _that_ weird, considering N-U is just a building over, right next door, between the staff housing and that smarmy motel, but Doyoung had pulled out a parking _pass_ for the _teachers lot_ and hung it up on his rear view mirror, and it all makes sense now – because Tau Nu Pi is a fucking _trap_ like Ten had warned him, and even the people who seemed the kindest and the most _good_ were always operating based on their own shitty agendas.

“So here I was, thinking you’re passing Professor Kim’s class because he’s in your _frat_ , and all along he’s been in your _ass_ , huh?!” Jungwoo means to make an extravagantly dramatic exit, with a firm slam of the car door, but discovers that it’s locked when he goes for the handle.

“Jungwoo—”

“Let me _out_ of this fucking _car_ you … you _miscreant whore_!”  The insult makes his cheeks go red with embarrassment, and its half the idiocy of the moment and half his _rage_ as he forces it to linger even though the more organic influx behind it all has passed almost instantly, “I should have known there wasn’t a _single_ decent human being in that god forsaken house! Ten _told me_ you’re all tallowcatch’s!”

“Ten _does_ love his Shakespearean insults…” Doyoung muttered, a little distractedly, “If I can guess which play that’s from, will you stay and talk to me a little longer?”

Jungwoo fumed, slamming his hands down furiously against the dashboard, “I don’t _fucking know_ what play it’s from you … you _scholarly_ _prostitute_!”

Doyoung was smiling. The same smile from earlier, right before he’d called Jungwoo _cute_ , “We could Google it.”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“I have _mine_ , though.”

Jungwoo crossed his arms over his chest and stared resolutely out of the window, refusing to glance down at his lap when Doyoung placed the device on his thigh, and then took his _stupid slut_ guess:

“I think it’s Henry IV. Actually, I _know_ it’s Henry IV. Now, please understand that first and foremost – I am _definitely_ the one in _his_ ass,”

This isn’t a surprise. Nothing would have surprised him at this point, especially on this particular subject and pertaining to this particular person. Doyoung might have been famous on campus for his voice, but he was _notorious_ for his kinks. Jungwoo’s freshman year, half of his classes had been wearing bruises, bite marks, and – gulp – _rope burns_ like they were the hottest fashion around. All courtesy of one _Doyoung Kim_ , who liked it rough, hard, and _mean_.

Jungwoo wanted to be disgusted, but he was more intrigued than anything else. But that was different. Condoning the left-field sexual acts of two consenting adults who were on the same level of authoritative power was one thing. A teacher-student relationship was another, and if Professor Kim really _was_ Doyoung’s … bitch, or whatever, then _no shit_ he was using that to pass his class! He’d failed it _every other fucking semester_ , hadn’t he? Shit, they’d failed it _together_ last year!

Jungwoo had gotten switched out. Doyoung, apparently, had gotten on his knees.

“You’re pathetic, _bragging_ about something like this. You think I care which one of you is calling the shots? I don’t give a _fuck_ whether you’re screwing your teacher or your teacher is screwing you. It’s sick, and it’s _not fair_ to those of us who are trying to survive this elite ass university with, huh, I dunno – _actual effort_?” His voice was starting to shake, but it wasn’t anger anymore.

He was thinking of Lucas, again. Thinking of how Lucas had switched out of Professor Kim’s class because he was such a jerk. Thinking of how it should have been _Lucas_ who shared his moral values, and his understanding of the world, and his _everything the fuck else_ that he was sitting beside right now, and not Doyoung who was … looking well and properly ashamed of himself, actually.

“I’m sorry for being crass,” He apologizes, looking down to his legs as if he can’t even _face_ Jungwoo. It feels powerful. Like people moving aside to let him cross the room. He doesn’t know how to continue lighting into Doyoung now that he’s shrunk himself up like this, so he just relaxes into his seat, and they both say nothing for a full sixty seconds.

“It … it wasn’t even _about_ the grades at first. If that matters. I guess it doesn’t, now, but it really wasn’t. I swear, it wasn’t. I ran into him at a BDSM event, downtown. It was the beginning of summer, and he _promised_ that whatever happened at that club would _stay_ at that club,” His voice is less even, now. Less perfect. He’s thrown his twelve plus years of vocal training to the dust in a fit of embarrassed shame, and Jungwoo can’t properly hold onto his fury, feeling it slip through his fingers the tighter he squeezes it.

“So you accidentally made a summer _fling_ out of a summer _night_ and it followed you into the fall,” He reasoned, taping his fingers against his other arm, “You should have broken it off in August, before everyone came back to campus.”

Doyoung nodded, seeming to _agree_ despite the fact that here they were, sitting right outside of Heechul’s apartment together. Lying must have come easily to him. According to Ten, lying came easy to _all of them_ , apart from Mark. Ten had always said that Mark wasn’t _smart_ enough to lie, but that with Mark – the truth was usually painful enough.

Jungwoo agreed wholeheartedly.

“Heechul doesn’t believe in monogamy,” Doyoung blurted out a little randomly, like he couldn’t help it, “He told me … He told me that since we’re nothing _serious_ it wouldn’t matter if we carried it on through the schoolyear,”

Nothing serious. Doyoung’s face looked mighty serious, though. The tear – just _one_ tear, that he shoved away with the back of his hand before he though Jungwoo saw it – looked pretty fucking serious.

“Heechul’s polyamorous, and you’re … not,” Jungwoo concluded, “How many other students is he, uh …”

Doyoung’s responding laugh is mirthless and _soul crushing_ in its agony, and Jungwoo understands. He understands more than he thought he’d be able to, and that _hurts_.

“Why stop at students?” Doyoung asks, a little darkly. His voice is playful, but without the childish delight that comes with play. It’s sadistic, although the only person he could possibly be hurting at this point is himself, “Let’s see, there’s two other students, a staff member, that cute little twink bartender at the twenty four hour pub in the next town over. Oh – and let’s not forget about _Sicheng_ , who had the sense to _turn him down_ because he’s a good fucking person, unlike _me_ , and doesn’t do _stupid shit_ like fall in love with someone completely unobtainable and _shitty_.”

Doyoung took a deep breath before continuing: “Y’know we couldn’t have sex for _weeks_ after that? I was so angry … too angry … I couldn’t choke him, couldn’t tie him up, couldn’t even _fuck_ him the way he likes it, cause I would have actually _hurt_ him, and you’ve gotta understand, Jungwoo – I know my track record isn’t the best, but I’ve never actually _hurt_ anybody before, I would _never_ —”

Sicheng’s fraternity dues. His supposedly _unpaid_ fraternity dues, that Ten had checked on, in secret, and found to be completely and entirely in order. They’d assumed that Mark and Johnny had found a way to take care of it. But it’d never been _about_ that, had it? Lucas hadn’t known the full story.

Jungwoo wasn’t sure he’d have _wanted_ to.

He interrupted Doyoung’s upsetting soliloquy with the only thing he could say that would convey his empathy in its full concentration: “Lucas was my first kiss.”

Doyoung stops talking, looks at Jungwoo (finally) and gives a single, silent, nod. So, he goes on: “It was in high school, and we were tipsy, and I told him I loved him, and he told me he loved me too, and I kissed him, and he kissed me back, and tonight – he told me that his first kiss was a week and a half ago with Mark Lee, because I _don’t count._ ”

Lucas, of course, hadn’t thought that their conversation was nearly as epically emotional as Jungwoo was relaying it to Doyoung. But Jungwoo had always been the hopeless romantic between the two of them. The keyword here, was _hopeless_. When it came to _romantic_ , his understanding was a lot more broad than his experience. But, it seemed, his understanding was a lot more broad than Doyoung’s, so he offers his best advice despite the fact that he, himself, has never had a _real_ relationship before:

“Break up with Professor Kim.”

The other man lets out a heavy exhale, and let’s pleading eyes meet Jungwoo’s sad ones, “It’s not that simple,”

“Yes it is. Just fucking break up with him. He’s treating you like shit, and he doesn’t have,  y’know, fifteen years of really solid best-friendship to fall back on despite the shittiness. Lucas is an idiot, but at least he’s not hurting me _on purpose_. I’m in a bad mental place, yeah, but I’m not mad at _him_ ,  I’m mad at myself.”

It was true. Lucas, like Mark, wasn’t actually _smart enough_ to do something like this vindictively. He really, somehow, thought that every single time, over all these long, long years, when Jungwoo told him that he loved him, he meant it platonically. Jungwoo _knew_ that. It was why he’d tried to say it more and more meaningfully, even when Lucas would _giggle_ at the awkwardness, mistaking it for humor. He couldn’t be angry with Lucas for liking Mark. Shit, he couldn’t be angry with Lucas for _loving_ Mark. He didn’t owe Jungwoo reciprocation any more than Doyoung owed Professor Kim compersion. 

“Heechul isn’t hurting me on purpose. He told me what I was getting into when I got into it, it’s not his fault that I can’t deal with it,” Doyoung argued, a little meekly.

Jungwoo shrugged, “Fine, then you’re hurting _yourself_ on purpose, which is worse. Break up with him.”

Doyoung unlocked the car, the sound of it breaking an otherwise strangely companionable silence. Jungwoo got the feeling that it was a bit of a passive aggressive way of telling him to mind his business, and he didn’t actually have the emotional bandwidth to fight a battle that wasn’t even his own, so he dropped the subject.

“So … whose jacket is this?” He asked instead, not really sure why the urge to linger in the car was such a potent one, “S’not yours. Doesn’t smell like you,” He leaned into the collar of the jacket and inhaled through his nose, to be sure, but confirmed that this was definitely not an article of Doyoung’s own clothing.

Doyoung was looking at him a little strangely, but didn’t make any adversary remark, instead just offering a simple answer to his question: “It’s Johnny’s. You want me to walk you inside? The hallway at N-U is creepy as fuck without a flashlight, and you did say that you left your phone…”

It seems like a peace offering, and he takes it, getting out of the car when Doyoung does, and walking across the staff lawn to the duplex. Doyoung doesn’t put an arm around him this time, and Jungwoo appreciates the space. The concept of having to face Ten (who would doubtlessly be pissed that he skipped out on helping with the Halloween party he was about to walk in on) was a frightening one, but somewhat lessened by the fact that he could _hear_ Ten before he saw him.

_“That trunk of humors! That bolting-hutch of beastliness! That swollen parcel of dropsies! That huge bombard of sack! That stuffed cloak-bag of guts!—”_

Jungwoo can’t _help_ but laugh, when Doyoung began to mutter along with Ten as they approach, “That roasted manningtree ox with pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey Iniquity, that father ruffian—”He was mocking in a squeaky voice that had Jungwoo’s abdomen _aching_ from laughter.

“How the _hell_ can you predict his nonsense right down to the _word_?” He asked, and Doyoung raised a brow as if surprised that Jungwoo _couldn’t_.

“It’s Henry IV. With Ten, it’s almost _always_ Henry IV. The drunker he is, the more clearly he remembers the dialogue. It was the last school play he was in with Johnny before they came to college and stopped being friends.” Doyoung explained, seeming to think this was commonly exchanged information that absolutely everyone knew.

Jungwoo hadn’t known. He didn’t ask Ten about Johnny because it always upset him, and he didn’t see the point in upsetting his friend over something as worthless as gossip.

“So you were cheating,” Jungwoo points out, although he can hear the teasing quality of his own tone, “You knew damn well that it was Henry IV when you asked if I’d stay in the car with you if you got it right,”

The elder man simply shrugged, rapping on the door when they arrive despite the fact that Jungwoo hadn’t thought to mention that he also didn’t have his keys. It must have been obvious, that he trusted Lucas to bring him back home. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. The crushing weight of his bad mood is starting to push down on his body again.

“I wanted to explain myself, and wanted to spend some time with you,” Doyoung sheepishly illuminated, “You’re pretty much the only one hundred percent _good_ person that I know, the idea of you thinking of me as a _bad_ person makes me sick to my stomach, if I’m honest.”

Jungwoo frowned, “Don’t go putting me on such a high pedestal, I won’t live up to it, and then I’ll feel even shittier than I do now, and it’ll be all _your_ fault,”

The door opened to reveal Kun, who pulled Jungwoo so suddenly into a bone-crushing hug that he almost doesn’t hear Doyoung’s response, catches it just _barely_ as Ten dramatically shuts the door in the man’s face with a snide comment about _no one_ in Tau Nu Pi _ever_ entering his apartment again.

But, even if just barely, he _does_ hear it:

“I would rather _die_ than hurt you like this,”

And it seems … so _much_. All of it. The statement is ridiculously grandeur, which isn’t what Jungwoo needs right now. He just needs … this. The cloud of weed-smoke that burned at his eyes enough that he could tell himself that was why he was crying. The tight _vice_ of Kun’s arms as he squeezed him and apologized over, and over, and _over_ again as if there was something he could have done to prevent Jungwoo from getting his heart broken.

The sound of home came with Ten’s really, _really_ slurred impression of Prince Henry. Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin bickering over whether or not _Carcolepsy_ was a playable word in Scrabble. The low, humming, bass of Taemin’s newest album under everything, and the clinking of ice and slurping of straws as they all fell deeper into intoxication.

The smell of home was _marijuana_ , which Jungwoo inhaled gratefully when he felt the dampened end of a joint being pressed against his lips. Cheap booze, that Donghyuck mixed into a delicious cocktail for him, managing to steal only one _single_ sip before Kun snatched it out of his hands. _Neroli Portofino_ cologne, Ten’s favorite, purchased every time he was in New York City with his parents for _$200_ _per ounce_.

The _reality_ of home didn’t hit until later. Much, much later, when he was forcibly removed from Johnny’s jacket by Ten who recognized it because _of course_ he recognized it, and then sent to his bedroom like a child.

To be fair, he’d cried himself to sleep in Kun’s lap seven times already by that point, so it wasn’t far-fetched to assume that he might be in need of sleep.

He didn’t actually realize he’d fallen _back_ asleep until he was woken up, hours later. Ten’s phone was ringing, and it woke Jungwoo before it woke Ten, but only by a few seconds.

The screen was lit with a rather extraordinarily unflattering photo of Lucas’ face, and Ten’s contact name for him, Xuxi, was accented with a shining red heart emoji. Jungwoo wondered if Ten would change it to the broken heart emoji if he asked him to.

Probably. Ten was rather empathetic with things like broken hearts.

The next thing Jungwoo notices is that Ten is asleep in his bed with Kun, which strikes him as odd until he remembers that the Dream kids slept over.

Ten answers the phone in an annoyed hiss, “You better be locked out of this apartment right now, it’s five in the damn morning.”

Jungwoo hadn’t noticed the time. His first, fleeting, thought: _Halloween is finally over._

There’s only silence on Ten’s side of the room and then a breath; furious.

“What, you knew I’d answer if you called from someone else’s phone?”

More silence.

“I can hear you breathing, ass hole. I know what your stupid fucking breathing sounds like.”

The next thing Jungwoo hears is feint. Not even audible, if not for the fact that the entire building was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

It’s a choking noise. Almost like a sob, but more dry. It’s ... definitely not Lucas.

“You _crying_ , Seo?” Ten accuses, and the venom he must have wanted to lace his voice with is too mild. Not potent enough to kill. Not sincere enough to even maim. When he next speaks it’s softer, any illusion of cruelty completely faded away, “Y’know it’s your shitty karma that gives you nightmares,” Ten yawned, “It’s not my job to lay here and listen to you breathe just so you don’t feel alone, either. You’ve never cared one way or another if _I_ get scared and lonely sometimes, now _have you?”_

There’s no answer, and Ten puts the phone on speaker and sits it beside his head on the pillow. Jungwoo can hear the sound of Johnny’s shattered, shaky breathing filling the room for nearly fifteen minutes until it settles to something more even. More controlled. Less human. More _himself_. Or, at least the version of himself that Jungwoo had come to know.

“There. You’re fine,” Ten hums out, tiredly, “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Jungwoo watches, eyes now adjusted to the light as Ten turns over, pressing his face into Kun’s chest and settles back to sleep.

He doesn’t hang up the phone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this, and a special thanks to anyone who comments/kudos/bookmarks ! You guys keep me going, I swear!


	7. Ring Out the Bells Again: Renjun POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unedited, so all mistakes are my own!

Renjun woke, as he usually did, in a comfortable sea of _white_. White pillows, white comforter, white sheets, crisply pressed white pajama set hugging his skin softly. For some, the overwhelming _brightness_ of it all would probably have been jarring, but as the sun peaked in through his sheer white curtains, he couldn’t help but be reminded that it beat student housing _ten-fold_.

He rose to greet the day the way he did every day – just five minutes before his alarm went off, in the first of the two guest bedrooms of Chenle’s penthouse hotel suite.

The younger boy had complained to his parents _relentlessly_ about the conditions of dormitory life at boarding school, until they gave up on attempting to console him and allowed him his own private safe-haven in this hotel. Renjun’s own parents could never have afforded such a luxurious lifestyle for him – but Chenle was generous and didn’t like living alone, so it worked for them.

Despite attending rival schools, enjoying different hobbies, and generally spending most of their daytime hours _apart_ , the boys loved living together and anyone who had been to their hotel room could tell as much based on the almost innate way that their schedules fit just exactly right for them to always have company when it was wanted and solitude when it was needed.

This morning, what was wanted was _company_.

After a brief shower, Renjun was comfortably wrapped up in a fluffy robe (brought fresh daily by housekeeping) and traipsing into the communal area of the suite, where he found Chenle and Jisung already plotting their nightly adventures.

“Good morning,” He greeted his younger friends, stepping over to the kitchenette to help himself to a croissant and a glass of orange juice, “You’re here early, Jisung,”

“Spent the night,” Jisung explained, continuing the fruitless task of trying to catch up on all of his social media at once – iPad balanced on one knee, cell phone in hand, computer sat in front of him on the table, “We don’t have school today, so.”

Renjun frowned, knowing for sure that he, Jeno, and Jaemin _definitely_ had school today. The kids at SRA always seemed to have even the most _ridiculous_ of free periods.

“Pretty sure it isn’t a national holiday in like … _any_ nation,” He pointed out, gulping down the rest of his juice and leaving the glass on the counter to be dealt with when housekeeping cleaned up later.

Chenle shrugged, “What do you want us to do? Break in?”

To Renjun’s memory, he’d received almost an identical sarcastic statement when pointing out the fact that they’d gotten off for _earth day_ the year before. He didn’t see any point in arguing it further so he made his way rather grumpily back towards his bedroom to get his uniform on and head out of the door.

“Hey, hold on!” Jisung called, standing up from his spread of devices and skipping over to Renjun’s personal space, “Jeno and Jaemin are skipping school to decorate the youth center for the younger kids, you wanna join them?”

It was a trick question. It was a trick question and Renjun _knew_ it was a trick question and Renjun knew _why_ it was a trick question because he _knew Jisung_ , which made him just a little bit _insulted_ by the trick question.

Every single Friday without fail, Jisung and Chenle tried to find a way into whatever the most exclusive party was in town. This year, that was definitely Tau Nu Pi. The theme hadn’t even been released yet, and they’d already posted the day before that they had too many RSVPs to accept any latecomers at the door past _eight_. 

Renjun himself wasn’t interested in going at all. Chenle had meant what he said about getting Doyoung to abolish costume parties. What exactly was the _point_ of a party that you couldn’t even wear a costume to? There wasn’t one. His own open disinterest in attending was likely why he was now being recruited to _distract Jeno_ in the least subtle way possible.

“I am not playing hooky and I am not _keeping Jeno busy_ while you guys sneak into the frat house – _again_. Wasn’t getting caught almost _twice_ last month enough for you?” He accused, crossing his arms over his chest.

Chenle and Jisung almost had the sense of shame to look embarrassed at being outed, but Renjun knew them well enough that he could still see the little cogs rotating in their heads, “Chenle! Our parents expect both of us at _Ten’s_ get-together tonight! You _know_ that,”

“We’ll stop by if I have time,” Jisung allowed with zero commitment at all, only rousing Renjun’s frustration further. How was he expected to be the bigger person and help control these two maniacs? He was just a _touch_ older than them but they didn’t offer him nearly the amount of respect and deference that they offered Mark despite the fact that there was barely any noted increase in the age difference.

“Injunnie,” Chenle whined, pouting at him with wide puppy dog eyes, “We really, _really_ wanna go. But Jaemin’s got plans to take Jeno on that new historical campus tour tonight, and that _includes_ the creepy shack behind the frat house and if Jeno sees us there he’s _totally gonna snitch to his mom_. You’ve gotta help us out here!”

The only reason Renjun actually even _considered_ agreeing was the date. Today was November _sixteenth_. Otherwise known as – officially the second half of November, and he still hadn’t managed to pull together a single gift, gag, or _plan_ for Chenle’s birthday on the twenty-second. Considering the fact that Jaemin and Jeno were actually extremely _simple_ to distract and redirect (if they trusted you) the opportunity to fly completely under Chenle’s radar for the entire day was one that it would be tricky to pass up.

If he played his cards right here – and he was thinking he had a pretty solid hand – he might actually get a lot more out of this day than he’d originally intended.

“Fine, I’ll get them out of your way,” He agreed with a very put-upon sigh as if this was the height of inconvenience, “But _just_ this one more time! Don’t make a habit out of it, I’m serious!”

Chenle had already made a habit out of it. He just hadn’t quite worked out yet that Renjun only ever agreed to say yes when doing what was asked of him was secretly _beneficial_ to him. Renjun had no intention of ever letting Chenle catch on, though. Knowledge was power around here, and that guy had a bit too much power as it was.

“Oh my God I love you for the rest of forever, also hurry the fuck up ‘cause Doyoung’s gonna be here to pick you up in like ten minutes,”

Renjun supposed Chenle was trying to suggest that he hurried up and changed _out_ of his uniform, but he didn’t really have time to compose an outfit properly, so he kept his oxfords and khakis on, changing out his blazer and throwing on a large pink pull-over atop his school button down. It didn’t have a hood, and he let the cuffs and collar of his uniform shirt show from beneath, liking the little accents of white against the pastel color.

Doyoung arrived earlier than expected, coming up to the room to hand something off to Chenle rather than waiting in his car like he did most days. The two of them went to speak privately in Chenle’s bedroom for a few moments and then both came out together, Doyoung helping himself to some of the coffee on their counter before finally turning his attention to Renjun.

“No uniform?”

Renjun shook his head, “Not going to school, apparently. I’ve been swindled into helping Jeno with something. You wanna be my hero and take me to him?”

It’s a lie. Renjun has absolutely no intention of seeing Jeno this morning at all. In fact, his fingers are halfway through typing out a text to remind Jaemin that the movie theater is single ticket entry for students all day today, and sending a separate text to Jeno pointing out that ticket stubs get free all you can eat chicken along with any purchase of an appetizer at Jaemin’s favorite restaurant. It’s is the only work he’ll have to be doing _at all_ on the Jeno and Jaemin front, but if Chenle caught wind to how easy it was to relocate the two not-quite-lovebirds all hell would break loose, so Renjun puts on a good show for his audience.

He’s been invited to join them for a day full movies and dinner later in the evening before Doyoung has even pulled out of the hotel parking lot, and agrees to catch up with them later on in the evening. It would be negligent to not confirm they were out of Chenle’s way during the party, after all. He can do at _least_ that much.

“Okay, where to?” Doyoung asks, buckling in and flicking on the radio. Jisung calls shotgun just about every single day and Renjun isn’t used to the front seat, but he tries not to make it awkward.

“Ten’s, please!” He chimes, smiling as they pull off.

Step One: _Check_.

Traffic is pretty heavy at this time of day, but it could be worse. They play a game of _I Spy_ when the city gets too congested and spend the rest of their time singing loudly over the radio. Doyoung points out, as he does every other morning, that Renjun should get vocal training and pursue making a career out of his singing. Renjun counters, as he does every morning, that he’s equally passionate in visual art and it’s a less competitive field.

They bicker comfortably. He draws a picture of his favorite cartoon character in sharpie on the back of Doyoung’s hand when they’re stopped at a red light. _The_ red light, that separates the southern side of campus from the northern side. It’s over a minute long – perfectly timed for him to complete his forty-five second masterpiece.

“Oh, are you coming up with me?” Renjun wonders aloud, when Doyoung parks his car in Ten’s extra spot instead of letting him out from the staff lot like he usually does when he drives them over here. The man seems to falter for a second before nodding, and then with a click, the doors are unlocked and they’re up and out.

“So what are you helping Jeno with?”

Renjun couldn’t help but laugh a little mischievously, skipping down the long (creepy) hallway to Ten’s door and then giving a hearty knock.

“Nothing. I just knew you’d drive me if I said I was, cause he’s your favorite.”

Doyoung clutched a hand to his chest, feigning heartbreak, “Renjun, you _evil genius_ – how did you manage such divinely manipulated trickery?”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing hold of the sleeve of Doyoung’s shirt and tugging him inside when a very groggy-eyed Ten opened the door.

Well. It _was_ rather early for him. Ten didn’t believe in waking up during single digit numbers.  He stepped aside to let them in and Renjun plopped down in one of the comfy chairs, watching Ten collapse into the other, which left Doyoung to take the couch despite the fact that it was rather conspicuously set up with sheets and blankets.

“Were you sleeping out here?” Renjun asked, a little curiously. Normally if he came over this early, Kun got to the door first – after a _long_ bit of knocking and sometimes a phone call. The residents of N-U were not early risers.

“Mmhm.” Ten nodded, stretching his arms over his head in a deep yawn, “Just for about an hour, though. Came out here when the baby got home so he could have a little space.”

The baby, undoubtedly, was Jungwoo. His need for space was explained about ten seconds later when someone who was definitely _not_ Jungwoo came out of Ten’s bedroom with only his underpants on. Renjun blushed beet red and glanced over to Doyoung, wondering if he was similarly embarrassed. He’d clenched his jaw rather tightly but didn’t seem otherwise disturbed.

Well, Doyoung had definitely _had sex before_ so that left him a little bit differently calculated in the ratio that exists between one’s personal experiences and one’s comfort levels than Renjun – who was a _proud_ virgin and intended to be quite entirely in love with whoever took part in changing that.

It wasn’t really his _age_ that made the situation weird. At eighteen he was perfectly legal. Donghyuck, he knew, was not the least bit virginal and he had suspicions about others in their circle of friends as well. It was just that he himself stayed so resolutely separated from all things that involved sex when it came to his day to day existence. He didn’t even talk about his _masturbation_ with any other human being – a stark contrast from Jeno and Jaemin who actually _sent each other links and recommendations to pornographic videos_.

Renjun wasn’t a prude, per say, he was just … willfully innocent. A concept which here means he was entirely not prepared to see a mostly-naked man exit his friend and mentor’s bedroom at half-past-too-darn-early in the morning and then freeze, and cover his not entirely _un_ -erect crotch with one hand.

“I was just gonna um … grab some water?” The man half asked, turning nervous eyes to _Doyoung_ rather than Ten.

Well, Doyoung looked like the scarier guy between the two of them. He was tall looking even _seated_ , donned in a long-sleeved white jumper, with straight legged pants and perfectly shined oxfords, revealing the slightest peak of diamond patterned dress socks. His expression was neutral but _stern_ somehow, hands folded neatly in his lap and eyes _hard_.

Ten was curled up into his own knees, halfway asleep in a pair of pajama bottoms that showcased the different expressions of Muzi from Kakao friends. He had on one fluffy sock, the other leg exposing his French manicured dancer’s feet – knobby and _small_.

After receiving no protest, the man went on to get a glass of water, drinking it halfway down right beside the sink before anyone thought to speak to him at all.

“Just for yourself?” Doyoung chided, voice ringing soft like distant church bells with the promise of musical beauty paired with religious discipline, “Isn’t Jungwoo thirsty, too?”

The man froze, finished his water, fiddled with the glass distractedly.

“Did you ask him if he wanted water?” Doyoung continued, and Ten managed to open up the eye that wasn’t pressed into his own kneecap and glanced around idly before closing it again when he decided nothing demanded his more focused attention.

“Uh … no?”

The guy was honest, if nothing else. Renjun took a note down in his iPhone that water was a polite protocol after sex, in case he needed to remember that knowledge for the future. 

“I’m sure you’re at _least_ headed to the bathroom to get him a damp towel,” Doyoung drawled, leaning back more comfortably in the couch with his arms spread over the back. He was the picture of relaxation – completely contrasting the harsh criticism of his words with a tone softer than silk.

Renjun added damp towels to his iPhone note, wondering what the hell that would be for. Should the water be cold or hot? What did a damp towel even _do_ after intercourse? Was it for his forehead or something? Did sex make you feverish?

“Y’know, actually, I’m headed _home_ ,” The man answered a little rudely – setting his glass down on the counter and stepping back into Ten’s room just long enough to retrieve a pair of black skinny jeans and a mesh tank top. He squeezed into the clothes as quickly as possible and was out the door without so much as a goodbye to Jungwoo.

Renjun didn’t need to make a note to know that was messed up.

“It’s Friday.” Ten announced, decisively.

When this did not prompt any response, aside from Doyoung getting up and filling a glass halfway with ice and then the rest of the way with water, Ten continued.

“High school students have school on Fridays.”

Renjun nodded, “I wanted to come spend the day with you,”

Doyoung chuckled from the kitchen and rolled his eyes, “You’re such a little sweet talker today!”

“He’s a sweet talker _every_ day, you just spoil them so _you_ don’t usually need sweet talking,” The sound of Lucas’ voice cuts through Renjun like ice and he panics for a moment that he’s about to be made to go to school. Which, while not the end of the world, would _seriously_ decrease his time to get what he was trying to get done finished.

Renjun gives Lucas his prettiest, most _darling_ smile when the man comes to sit on the couch, and maintains it when Jungwoo comes out of his bedroom to sit there beside him.

They both look … beat. Everyone except for Doyoung is tired.

Jungwoo extends his hand to receive the glass of ice water that Doyoung hands him as he returns to the living area and then stares at it with confusion for a few seconds while Doyoung gets comfortable on his other side.

“Thanks,” He finally manages, throat sounding more rough and raw than Renjun has heard it before.

Maybe it wasn’t just fever. Maybe sex made you actually _sick_. That’s probably why people always stressed that you should be _ready_ – so your immune system was strong enough for you to recover.

“You smell like my Aloe Vera wipes,” Ten states, sniffing the air without lifting his head.

“Yeah,” Jungwoo agrees, sipping the water delicately, “Why are these two here so early?” Even as he questions it, he reconfigures himself to sit on his side rather than his bottom, which presses his ass into Lucas’ thigh and let’s his head rest on Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung adjusts to this development by lifting his arm and wrapping it around Jungwoo, tugging him closer so that he’s rested on his chest instead. Jungwoo snuggles into him comfortably – entirely unopposed to this shift – and Renjun deducts that they’re welcome even if unexpected company.

“I don’t have a birthday gift for Chenle yet, and I was hoping to convince Ten to take me shopping and convince Doyoung to drive us to the mall. Doesn’t open for another couple of hours, still, but I was going to offer up an extra hour of sleep as my last resort if I had to bargain.” He explains honestly. Honesty is the most important component of manipulation. It’s the crossroads between wanting what you want from someone and getting it. The error of the Chenle and Jisung method was that they revealed their hands without waiting for the opportune moment.

Amateurs.

“Sleep _is_ a pretty hefty form of currency around here,” Ten pointed out, exhaling something that was caught between the low tenor of a yawn and the loud screech of a well-aimed stretch, arms raised high over his head, spine making little clicking noises, “I’m gonna pass on your offer for an extra hour of sleep, because I think I’m _just_ breaking out of being exhausted, but I’m totally down to shop for Lele,”

Renjun knew he would be. Ten adored Chenle even more than he loved blowing his money, which said something. An opportunity to spend time making a good use of his parents’ disposable income for the purpose of doting on his favorite little _spoiled brat_ was promising. Ten and Chenle’s parents worked together, and from what Renjun understood, the two had a history that went back a lot further than Ten starting at SMU.

It was fair to assume that Chenle had known him almost as long as Johnny, and Ten placed value in anyone who’d stuck by his side for an extended period of time. They’d played one of those _get to know each other_ games together on Halloween, and Renjun had earned two points solid for guessing that Ten’s top values in a friend were commitment and longevity. Drunk off his ass, Ten had also blurted out that Johnny’s problem was that he had one and not the other. It was pretty obvious which was which.  Ten liked to surround himself with beautiful people, interesting people, and talented people – but he didn’t call them his _friends_ unless they were _empathetic_ people.

Empathy was an emotion that always seemed to get lost in translation between Johnny’s heart and his mouth, in Renjun’s limited experience.

Jungwoo had fallen asleep against Doyoung’s chest and Doyoung’s face softened into something more tender than Renjun had ever seen it before.

“Are you guys an item?” He asked curiously, gesturing to the two men as Jungwoo shifted, throwing a leg over Doyoung’s thighs to get more comfortable.

“Not at all,” Doyoung answered with a smile, “Jungwoo needs patience, affection, and inculpable human contact right now, not a relationship,” He explained, as if Jungwoo’s lack of _necessity_ for a romantic title was exactly why they didn’t have one.

Ten snorted, “Y’might wanna tell _him_ that, seeing as what he seems to _think_ he needs is to choke himself on anonymous dick till he can’t breathe anymore. I swear – last month all I ever heard from this guy was that _Vocalists_ don’t do this and _Vocalists_ don’t do that. Now? His throat’s so abused he can barely talk and y’know what he-”

“Hey, Ten? Gross.” Lucas cut in, “I do _not_ need to know this, bro.”

Renjun agreed wholeheartedly.

Ten wasn’t done.

“Y’know what he says? He goes _oh it’s just blowjobs, it’s not like I’m stretching out my-_ ”

Lucas screamed so loudly that Renjun (thankfully) didn’t catch the end of Ten’s sentence and Jungwoo woke up with a grumpy pout, nuzzling further into Doyoung’s body like it could protect him from the sound. To Doyoung’s credit, he _did_ use his free hand to cover Jungwoo’s exposed ear, petting his hair down until he dozed again.

“I think we’re understanding the general idea without that much detail,” Doyoung politely mentioned, “But as unnecessarily graphic as you’re making this, I _do_ get your point, and I’m happy to help as best I can.”

Renjun had no idea what that could mean in this context, but he was happy for the easy segue out of this subject, and grasped at it greedily: “Does that mean you’re happy to drive us to the mall?”

With a somewhat reluctant sigh, Doyoung nodded, and Renjun whooped with excitement, rushing to his feet to grab some breakfast before they headed out. Ten was likely to take him out to eat while they were out if he whined about being hungry, so he didn’t want to get _too_ full, but cereal never hurt anybody.

This was a wise choice indeed, when an hour later Renjun found himself perusing the menu of what Renjun knew to be the fanciest restaurant near the mall that was open before 4pm. They were serving their brunch menu as early as nine in the morning, which was rare, and had bottomless mimosas until noon. Ten sipped at his fifth or sixth mimosa, still showing no signs at all of even the faintest whisper of being tipsy, and crossed one designer jean clad leg over the other, “So. What are you thinking of getting for Chenle?”

Renjun had no answer to that question and said so, “Did you get him anything?”

Ten nodded, “Winning ball from when the Warriors won the NBA Finals, signed by Steph Curry,” He drawled as if it was nothing at all, “Oh, and a three year subscription to that weird cooking magazine that he thinks nobody knows he reads, but I need a card to put the certificate in for that, so we can pick that up at Hallmark while we’re at the mall,”

Renjun gaped, “ _Ten!_ There is no way anyone else’s gift is gonna seem like … _remotely_ thoughtful, now!”

“Gifts aren’t really something Chenle puts much value in, though,” Ten pointed out, truthfully. Renjun knew that, of course, but even so – Ten’s ideas were unique, one of a kind, and just extravagant enough to be appreciated by someone who had a completely disposable income. How was Renjun expected to compare?

Donghyuck had bought a blank notebook in _May_ and then spent the _entire summer_ filling it with polaroid’s and memoirs of himself and Chenle. Jaemin had snuck into the most elite Tau Nu Pi alumni event of the _century_ just to get a recording of Yixing Zhang singing Happy Birthday to Chenle, and Jeno had booked a class for he and Chenle to go and _make Chenle’s favorite chocolate from scratch together_.

Now Ten, with a _signed winning basketball_ from Chenle’s favorite person in the entire world.

Renjun was majorly falling behind and completely out of ideas.

“Chenle doesn’t really _care_ about birthday presents,” He mused aloud, because that was exactly the problem. There was no item one could purchase for that guy that he wouldn’t just purchase for himself if he wanted it, and it seemed like all of the really sweet and thoughtful and _inexpensive_ ideas were taken, “He likes birthday _parties_ ,”

“So throw him a party,” Ten suggested, tone as light and easy as he was making the task itself sound despite the difficulty and _expense_ of such a lofty and impossible idea. The idea got a lot less lofty and impossible as Ten continued to speak, “I’ll sponsor it for you. It’s _Chenle,_ he won’t care who pays for it. He’ll be touched that you thought of him and excited by whatever you come up with. We can rent out a venue downtown, if you want. Near the hotel, so you can surprise him and he doesn’t catch on immediately,”

Renjun’s eyes lit up with excitement and he gave an eager nod, “We can shop for all the stuff today? I don’t know when the next chance to spend an entire day flying under his radar will present itself,”

Living together with someone made surprising them very hard.

“Sure, I don’t have any classes today,” Ten revealed – which Renjun already knew. Ten didn’t ever have class on Fridays. He believed three-day weekends were necessary for his basic academic functionality. After flunking his first semester of school (the only semester he _had_ been scheduled for Friday classes) no one had any room to argue with him on that point.

Not needing to rely on a scholarship for tuition really did make a major change in the way people saw the importance of their grades, Renjun figured. _Mark_ felt like he couldn’t _afford_ to fail. Which was bittersweet, as it was the major reason that Renjun barely ever even _saw_ Mark anymore – but also one of the reasons he admired him.

“Can we get those metallic gold plastic plates that look super fancy, instead of normal paper plates?” Renjun prodded further, expression hopeful.

Ten reached forward to pat his cheek with the utmost fondness and affection, “Sure thing, kid.”

Four Mimosa’s and an overpriced taxi later, (Doyoung didn’t stick around after dropping them at the restaurant) they were finally breaching the entrance to the mall. It wasn’t the mall that everyone _usually_ went to. It was the _nice_ one. The one that Renjun normally didn’t even set foot in, for fear that there might not be a single thing inside that he could actually afford.

The one that Ten assumed everyone was talking about when they said ‘ _The Mall_ ’.

Rich bastard.

This mall didn’t have a _Party City_ like the other one. Rather, it had a moderately sized boutique called _Fête_ that sold only the best of the best in party supplies – including the champagne flutes that Renjun wanted, with the little gold confetti flecks down the stem. He intended to be serving sparkling cider, not champagne, but they should drink in style either way, right?

It was the kind of store that only kept one of each item on sight. You had to scan in item numbers with some kind of price gun device as you went along and then check them all out as one large order after specifying how many you needed of each. Renjun was having the time of his _life_ scanning every single thing that it looked like Chenle would enjoy, and Ten was the word _bubbly_ personified as he babbled along with him, pointing out ideas that Renjun wouldn’t have thought of on his own.

“Oh my _gosh_ they have little basketball bottle-stops!” Ten squealed, snatching the model item from the shelf and holding it excitedly in front of Renjun’s face, “We need like … a million of these, they’re so cute. Oh! They have microphones, too! Okay, fuck it – let’s get a few different themes, the kid likes more than basketball,”

Renjun scanned it all.

“How about the monogrammed coasters?” He asked, steering Ten over to a different section, and following behind him as he started to lead the way there, “Y’know he likes seeing his name on … stuff,”

Ten had stopped dead in his tracks a few paces ahead of Renjun, and the younger boy almost bumped right into his back, stopping short and then peering around him instead.

 _Oh_.

“Dude, I think this is the wrong store. Isn’t the one that does the University printing stuff called _Fac_? Why is every business in this fucking mall in French? Am I just too high for this shit right now or – oh shit, bro, it’s Ten and uh … boy child number … is that one three or four? Which one’s the mean one?”

Renjun didn’t mind not being recognized by Taeyong Lee because he honestly didn’t much like Taeyong Lee, but his feelings would have been a little hurt if Johnny hadn’t recognized him either.

Johnny ignored him entirely, though. So, he couldn’t really decide if that counted as not recognizing him.

“Tennie!”

Ten was lifted into Johnny’s arms in a hug so violently fought against that it was almost akin to _assault_. If he kicked his legs any harder he’d probably knock something over, but since he could afford to pay for it anyway, Renjun didn’t see much of a point in attempting to still him.

“John Seo you put me down this _fucking instant_ or I will _kill you_ ,” Ten hissed out, bitterly. This line of action attracted the attention of a shop clerk and she was frowning at them distastefully, a cold contrast to the helpful charm she’d displayed earlier after spotting Ten’s black American Express card as Renjun passed it back to him after stepping away for a lemonade.

Johnny put Ten down, but kept a hand rested on his waist. Casually. The way Renjun would see his arm resting along those girls’ waists when he caught him out on the green with Taeyong after school when he walked across campus with Jeno. Idle. Affection without a thought or a purpose. His fingers ran up and down Ten’s sides with a ghostly softness that made Ten’s back go tense even as his shoulders relaxed from the sweetness of it.

When it came to Johnny – even Ten’s _body language_ was confused and sporadic.

That was always what Kun would say about Ten and Johnny (provided Ten wasn’t around to overhear it) – that they weren’t exactly _not friends_ , Ten was just hurt. And even more than that – _confused_. He was hurt and confused, and even more hurt that Johnny made no effort to disintegrate his confusion, and even more _confused_ that Johnny made no effort to heal his hurt. Ten expected Johnny to _understand everything_ without having to _tell him anything_.

Renjun kind of got that. He’d witnessed Chenle and Jisung get into fights like that before, after all. Sometimes, when you were close to someone, you expected the words left unsaid to be even louder than the ones you’d carefully packaged and selected for them; but sometimes it’s not _enough_ to not hear something out loud.

With Jisung and Chenle, it was usually little things – Chenle stomping around the hotel suite because Jisung was ‘hours late’ and then bursting into a furious rage when he realized Jisung wasn’t coming. To Jisung, of _course_ Chenle was supposed to know that he couldn’t sleep over that weekend because his older brother’s girlfriend was coming home with him from school that weekend. He’d told Chenle a _thousand times_ that she was coming. Why wouldn’t Chenle understand that meant their standing appointment for a sleep over was canceled? To Chenle, of _course_ Jisung would want to escape dinner with a girl who he claimed was annoying and obnoxious every time she came around. Hadn’t he stressed her presence to make sure Chenle had solid plans in place that were good enough for him to excuse himself from his parents?

Miscommunications. Minor miscommunications with major feelings attached to them. There was always the lingering hurt of _“You should know me better than to do this,”._ Ten and Johnny were the same, but with a much, much, more _major_ miscommunication, Renjun figured.

“So Dorothy,” Johnny drawled, hauling Ten to his side via the hand still clinging comfortably to his waist, “What brings you guys out to the mall in the middle of the school day? I didn’t think you were the type to play hooky,”

It’s not quite a reprimand, but Renjun feels mildly defensive anyway. He’s also not overly fond of his nickname from Johnny. The problem wasn’t _Dorothy_ as a nickname in and of itself – it was the fact that Chenle’s was _Toto_ , Jisung’s was _Scarecrow_ , Jaemin’s was _Tinman_ , and Jeno’s was _Lion_.

Not only was it highly offensive to Renjun that Johnny had dubbed them all together rather than as separate entities – but there was the added annoyance of the fact that were they to be split into characters of The Wizard of Oz, they were _heinously_ assigned! Chenle was more the Dorothy, Jisung the Toto, Jaemin the Scarecrow, Jeno the Tinman, and Renjun the Lion.

But Johnny didn’t know any of them well enough to distinguish that, and didn’t seem to _care_ about any of them enough to assign them nicknames that suited them. He found it amusing that they all hung out together, and assigned them at random the first time he’d encountered them.

Donghyuck didn’t really like to be called _Squirt_ , but at least there was some kind of thought behind it – it was the only non-alcoholic drink being served at the first Tau Nu Pi party Hyuckie had gone to. He’d been through possibly seven bottles of it on his own, and Johnny had named him after it. There was a _story_ there – a _history_.

Not a random roll of the dice in _Beautiful! New! Technicolor!_

“I’m throwing Chenle a birthday party,” He answers a little meekly, eyes darting over to Taeyong who is now flirting openly with the woman who had been a breath away from chastising them and kicking them out of the store.

She looks at least ten years older than him. His fingers are playing with the hem of her shirt and she’s giggling and batting his hand away with no effort for him to actually desist. The motions are so reminiscent of their activity when Renjun passes by them on the green in the afternoon that he could have predicted it. This was the part where Taeyong looks over his shoulder and head nods to Johnny, urging him to come over and speak to the girl as well.

Like clockwork, Taeyong looks back, nods, and like clockwork – no.

Johnny glances over at Taeyong like he’d forgotten they’d come in together, and doesn’t look at the woman at all, turning back to Ten as the shorter man tries to use his not-quite-distraction as an opportunity to escape his grasp.

“Can I help?” He asks Renjun, yanking Ten’s body closer beside his. Ten’s entire head is leaning away in disgust and his torso is curling closer into Johnny’s chest. His legs haven’t decided, one firmly planted to where Johnny put him and the other on a pivot, preparing for a hasty exit.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” Ten answers before Renjun can even open his mouth, succeeding in extracting himself from Johnny’s grasp, although it quite obviously irritates Johnny not to be touching him anymore, “Monogrammed coasters?” The question is directed towards Renjun again, and he gives a stiff nod, following Ten around Johnny and over to what they’d been trying to look at.

Johnny trails behind them, waving at Taeyong to ditch the girl and come along, which surprises Taeyong about as much as it surprises Renjun: _a lot._

Luring the fairer sex into their polyamorously woven spider web was kind of Johnny and Taeyong’s _thing_. Renjun really only ever saw it at a distance, but he still saw it _a lot_ , and didn’t understand what component had inserted itself into their day that would change up the standard routine. Surely, it wasn’t _him_. He was a high schooler and Taeyong didn’t even know his name for goodness’ sake! Maybe it was Ten? But why? Johnny couldn’t even get so much as a _kind word_ from Ten – so why prioritize him over flirting with a pretty (even if noticeably older) woman?

“Here’s an idea,” Johnny proposed after he obtained Taeyong via a firm tug of the other’s fraternity-letter-printed bomber jacket, “What if we throw the party at the frat house? Chenle would _love_ that!”

The pure _goodness_ of the idea hits Renjun so squarely in the chest that he almost buckles under the weight of it. Chenle _would_ love that. It’s, frankly, the _best_ idea that’s been put forward about this party, and Chenle would be so, _so_ impressed with Renjun for managing something like that. It would be the first time _ever_ that a high schooler (and a _Junior_ , at that) would have a birthday celebrated at Tau Nu Pi and Chenle loved breaking records the way Jaemin loved breaking the protective seal on his first Keurig pod of the day. _Especially_ Tau Nu Pi records.

He’d lose his mind with joy, honestly.

“I was gonna rent out a whole venue for it…” Ten contributed, a little weakly, voice already being overpowered by Johnny and Taeyong as they rattled on about how they’d decorate the house for Chenle’s party. Their ideas were … pretty stellar, if Renjun was being honest. Then again, the two of them threw parties just about every single _night_ so it was no surprise that they were pros.

“Y’know what?!” Ten exclaimed much more _loudly_ so he could be heard over the other two as they chattered excitedly to Renjun, “Here,”

He fished out his credit card – not one of the ones he usually let people borrow, this time; the _all black_ one. The one that made shopkeepers stop what they were doing to come and assist no matter what, with the centurion right at the center and the metallic edges all around – and handed the thing to Renjun, inexplicably. Renjun had been handed Ten’s credit card before, of course, even just a few minutes ago when he’d wanted a drink, but not like this. Ten’s expression was all wrong. Normally, he passed it over with a fond indulgence, a _trust_ , a happiness to spoil and to assist.

Not this time.

He looked … shattered, in a word. Like he’d given up. Like it was the last _possible_ thing he had left to give, and Renjun – suddenly – realized that from Ten’s perspective, it _was_. He had already purchased the _best_ gift for Chenle, offered to throw the _best_ party for Chenle, and taken Renjun out to the _best_ stores to make all of that happen. Now, Johnny and Taeyong were taking it over, shooting down Ten’s original ideas left and right in favor of their own, from the plates to the theme, to the _location_ , and that was just the worst part, wasn’t it? Ten loved and adored Chenle probably a hundred times more than Johnny or Taeyong – maybe even more than _Renjun_.

But there was no way he was going to a party at Tau Nu Pi.

Johnny and Taeyong’s aggressive participation not only destroyed what Ten had been trying to build, but excluded him from the event entirely.

The only thing he _had_ left to give was money, and the only card he had with a limit high enough to sustain even Chenle’s tastes was this one. The _black_ one. The one that never left his sights. The one being pressed with a frantic urgency into Renjun’s hand.

Because yeah, there was _no way_ Ten was going to a Tau Nu Pi party – but he’d sponsor one if it made Chenle happy.

Johnny seemed to have this realization at exactly the same moment as Renjun.

“Tennie, we don’t have to-” He attempted to intersect, but Ten shook his head, pulling his phone out and navigating to his text thread with Kun so quickly that it must have been an automatic motion.

“It’s fine, my ride’s on the way.” He announced decisively, turning back towards Renjun and giving his hair a friendly ruffle, teeth gleaming prettily despite the sheer inauthenticity behind his smile, “He’s gonna _love_ this, Injunnie!” Ten half-elated, sad eyes clashing brutally with his otherwise happy expression.

“He’ll like whatever you had planned just as much,” Taeyong offered, stupidly, because he didn’t really _care_ enough about Chenle to know how much of a lie it was, he just cared enough about Ten to try and get it passed him.

“No he won’t,” Ten insisted with a dry laugh, entirely mirthless and more painful sounding than anything, “Since between the three of us,” He gestured to himself, Johnny, and Taeyong, “I’m the only one who’d think to _actually give a fuck_ about what another human being _wants_ as opposed to what I have to offer,” Taeyong opens his mouth to interrupt but allows himself to be silenced with Johnny swats his thigh, “I think it’s best that I just let you guys take it from here. Yeah?”

“That’s really how you see us, Tennie?” Johnny asked, face an odd combination of angry and disappointed, “You think – what? We just don’t give a fuck about you at all?”

Johnny was getting progressively more worked up, and Renjun realized that he’d never actually _seen_ this emotion on Johnny before.

“Yeah, that’s how I see you,” Ten answered, unapologetically, “And y’know what? I’m kind of getting tired of both of you pretending that you don’t have a fucking clue _why_ I see you that way,” He turned, surprisingly, to Taeyong for his next comment, “Especially _you!_ ”

Taeyong winced. He winced _guiltily_. Johnny, to his credit, at least looked more confused than bashful.

“In my defense,” Taeyong attempted, “I was coming off of like a three day binger and wasted out of my _mind_ when I-”

“When you _what_ , Taeyong? When you looked me straight in the eye and chose Johnny over me even though we both knew _he_ was wrong? Or when you asked me what I expected you to _do_ about it while I cried on your bedroom floor? Or was it when you proceeded to avoid me for the next three months afterwards because it was _awkward_ to talk to me after what happened? When, exactly, were you so _wasted out of your mind_ that you stopped caring about your best friend? Cause the way I hear it, you’ve been on a three _year_ binger since you got here, and I haven’t seen you treat Johnny as badly as you treated _me_ even one _single_ time so I don’t wanna hear it!”

Renjun … had no idea that Ten was a furious at Taeyong as he was at Johnny. In fact, he hadn’t even known they’d really been close friends before. He was a little shocked to hear _any_ of Ten’s furiously shouted rant, truth be told, and didn’t have any protest to offer at all when Ten’s phone buzzed, screen glowing with a message from Kun that most likely meant he was waiting in the parking lot.

Ten turned and left without another word, leaving Renjun still clutching on to his black card with no idea how to go on with the rest of the day guiltlessly.

“Did you really do all of that?” Johnny asked, eyes blown open so wide that Renjun actually _believed_ he was surprised somehow. How had he not known?

Taeyong cut his eyes to Johnny a little harshly, “You _made_ that mess, don’t start holding it against _me_ that I didn’t know how to clean it up!”

Strangely, Johnny looked at Renjun and not Taeyong. He was struck with the concept that perhaps he wasn’t meant to overhear any of this, and they were only _now_ realizing that he was witnessing it.

“Let’s check out your stuff from here and head over to a different store, huh? I bet there’s a bunch more stuff we can find for Chenle at the store Doyoung gets our stuff from for the theme parties,”

Renjun nodded, allowing Johnny and a somewhat tense Taeyong to lead the way to the checkout and then downstairs to a more warehouse styled business. It operated with the same basic function, a scanner gun that you selected your items and quantity with. The clerk gave one to each of them and they spent a large amount of time picking out things for the party and a slightly larger amount of time paying laser tag with one another using the beam of the scanner. They managed not to knock anything over, and by the time Renjun was packed beside an enormous abundance of plastic bags in the back seat of Johnny’s car he was beaming.

This was gonna be _awesome_.

Even so, he couldn’t help the slightest twinge of guilt over the situation with Ten. He was sure that Kun (and likely Jungwoo) had Ten’s emotional state well under control, but he still wanted to do something to show his ongoing support. Ten was pretty much the only University student he knew that was in his corner one hundred percent of the time without any obligation at all.

Mark _worked_ at the youth center. Lucas would do just about anything to impress or assist Mark. Doyoung was _physically incapable_ of not being helpful at every opportunity. Ten just … really liked them and wanted to make sure they were taken care of, like, _all_ of the time. It wasn’t that Ten was like that to everyone (he wasn’t). It wasn’t that he wanted to get on anyone’s good side, or that he was getting paid, or that there was any kind of reward (morally or otherwise) for him to receive for caring for them. He just _cared_. That was the kind of unconditional positivity that it was really hard to come by.

Renjun tried to explain as much to Jeno and Jaemin, hours later, as he lounged between them in the back of the now-nearly-empty movie theater, watching the same cartoon that had been showing in this screening room an hour prior over again because when he’d showed up he’d missed the beginning.

“I just think it would be nice to do something special for him,” He insists after Jeno’s _third_ rendition of ‘but _why_ though?’ when Renjun tried to brainstorm ideas of what they could do for Ten.

“Did something bad happen at the mall today?” Jaemin asked softly, managing to tear his eyes away from the screen although he was, by far, the most interested in the film, “You seemed kind of stressed when we met up, honestly – even though I can tell you’re excited about Chenle’s party,”

Renjun collapsed back against Jaemin’s chest, happy that they had opted to leave the arm rests up and out of the way – allowing him to cuddle to his heart’s content as he sighed, biting down on his lip and considering if it was okay to pass along what little he’d learned about Ten’s situation to his friends. He didn’t know how much of Ten’s history was meant to be private, how much he had witnessed purely by fluke.

“He’s just having a really hard semester, I guess,” Renjun explained, relaxing as Jaemin rested his chin against him, presumably meeting Jeno’s studious gaze over his shoulder. Renjun readjusted his feet to rest in Jeno’s lap, nudging at his stomach annoyingly until he stopped looking at Jaemin and paid attention, “I think that Mark getting with Lucas is kind of … bridging this huge gap that’s been in place between everyone at N-U and everyone in TNP? I dunno, it just seems like Ten’s not necessarily _ready_ to be subjected to the frat as often as he has been. I think it would be nice to give him something that’s just _his_ for a change.”

“Okay, Injunnie,” Jaemin easily agreed, nuzzling into his neck and yawning hot and itchy against his skin. He squirmed, swatting at the taller boy’s arm punishingly, “What’d you wanna do for him?”

“I don’t know, and it would be hard to plan it _before_ Chenle’s party. I just want it on the table, I guess,” Renjun clarified, knowing that their bandwidth would be low as a _group_ after pulling together something insane enough for Chenle to enjoy himself, but still determined to do something to get Ten out of his emotional rut.

“Consider it on the table, then.” Jeno confirmed with a nod, pushing Renjun’s feet onto the popcorn-dusted theater floor, “Now shut up and watch the movie so we don’t have to sit through it a _third_ time, cause I am _not_ suffering through you whining about spoilers at dinner just because you weren’t actually paying attention,”

He accents this statement by leaning forward to physically turn Renjun’s face towards the screen, and since this doesn’t actually mean he has to move away from his comfortable perch against Jaemin’s chest, he allows it, trying his best to tune back in to the storyline. His mind is still somewhat distracted, between the weirdly ticklish huff of Jaemin’s laughter against his neck when something silly happens, and the much more uncomfortable remembrance of Ten at the mall.

Overall, he’s just happy to have worked out the _perfect_ way to commemorate Chenle’s birthday, and to have gotten his two closest friends to agree to do something for Ten – even if it wasn’t happening for a while. They’d also have to save up for it quite a bit, considering it wasn’t really right to ask Ten for help financing his _own_ … whatever-it-was.

“You seem distracted,” Jaemin whispered into his ear, and Renjun shuddered a little at the sensation, resisting the urge to _pinch_ the other boy for continuing to irritate him while he was trying to be _comfortable_ , “You sure you don’t wanna … I dunno, elaborate or something? About what happened at the mall?”

“Shh!” Jeno hushed them, and Renjun snickered just slightly, realizing that Jeno wanted to watch the movie for _himself_ as much as he wanted Renjun to see it.

He waved away Jaemin’s concerns as quickly as possible and really _did_ force himself to focus. Whatever was going on between Ten, Johnny, and Taeyong wasn’t any of his business. All he could really do at this point was make sure Ten knew that he was loved and supported no matter what. He just had to figure out what exactly he could do to show him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who follows this fic!! Knowing that I have readers, commenters, and kudos to look forward to keeps me going!! An ESPECIALLY huge hug to anyone who comments!! You guys are my inspiration, I swear <3 
> 
> Originally, this chapter wasn't supposed to be posted until I finished the first of five (5!!) side stories that I have planned for this verse, but since this chapter is complete and the side story isn't, it didn't seem fair to hold out on all my JohnTen shippers for the sake of a ship that, at the end of the day, just isn't really the focus here. 
> 
> All my love!!


	8. The Big Gay Birthday Orgy: Yuta POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been 8 weeks. In this time, two of my relatives have died, I've had to travel and not bring my laptop with me to about four different places, and generally life has been kicking my ass. 
> 
> Also Yuta fucking hates me and doesn't cooperate. 
> 
> BUT!! Here you go, I know you guys have been waiting for it :D

“So are you guys gonna bitch about this all day, or do we have other plans?” Taeil asked, driving Yuta’s annoyance from a low, humming thirty percent to a full seventy five in an instant. He sighed, leaning forward against Sicheng’s back and flicked through his phone with open irritation. He’d had a really shitty birthday, and reserved the right to be really shitty about it for as long as possible. Even now, a month later, when the attention was shifting from one birthday into another, significantly less important one.

“I just don’t think it’s fair,” He reiterated, despite having already raised his complaint with Johnny _and_ Taeyong and getting shot down by both of them with an accusation of being selfish and irrational. He was hoping that Taeil would have served as a more helpful ally, seeing as he was the oldest currently living at the house. Unfortunately, the concept of superiority through longevity worked a little bit differently in fraternities than in other parts of society.

Taeyong had _pledged_ first out of all of them – that made him leader, no matter how much older Taeil was. His word was law, and his word was (usually) whatever Johnny wanted it to be.

“Sichengie and I had to _share_ a birthday party and fundraise for it ourselves because money is apparently _too low_ for us to afford separate events – and now not even a full month later, we’re throwing the biggest party of the century for someone’s _seventeenth birthday_? He’s not even _in_ Tau Nu Pi. Where the fuck is this money coming from?”

Sicheng pulled out of Yuta’s embrace, scooting away from him with a huff. He was both annoyed by this circumstance _and_ by Yuta’s continuous verbalization of dissatisfaction regarding it – which was frankly, just a little hypocritical.

Sicheng was a hypocrite first and foremost before most other things. Yuta found it charming.

“It’s Doyoung’s business where the money’s coming from,” Taeil insisted, exactly as Johnny had, and Taeyong before him, “Worry about your own money,”

“You could call Park about it,” Sicheng suggested, reaching into one of the drawers of Taeil and Yuta’s shared desk and retrieving a composition book and pencil. He sketched on it idly as he spoke, without any regard for whether or not they minded him using their things.

Sicheng was an inconsiderate person, as well as a hypocrite. Yuta found this charming as well.

“You mean _Jeong-Su Park_? I doubt he has time to be taking my phone calls,” Yuta pointed out, knowing this to be true. Jeong-Su’s career was at its peak currently. He was one of the most successful alumni of their fraternity and barely even took note of the fact that Tau Nu Pi was a responsibility of his at all. He was one of the _only_ brothers on his line that wasn’t currently teaching at the school, and contact with him wasn’t exactly easy to come by.

“If you want to override Taeyong you have two options – Kim or Park. You think Kim is gonna go against Doyoung? Obviously not, so call Park.”

Yuta didn’t want to override Taeyong. He didn’t even particularly want to go against Doyoung. What he wanted was to know how the fuck their fraternity had received three hundred times its usual funding budget in less time than they’d prepared for any event to date. He could think of _two_ people who could cough up that kind of money.

The first – Chenle himself, who was thus far completely unaware that the party was being thrown. The second – _Ten_. Which would mean … probably something a lot more complicated than Yuta’s mind was up for figuring out. Was Ten sponsoring this party? That raised a lot more questions than it answered.

Especially because even if he’d paid for it, he certainly wasn’t coming to it. When he’d discovered that Yuta and Sicheng were feeling supremely slighted by the fact that so soon after budget cuts around their own birthdays this event was being organized, he’d promptly invited them both over to study with him for finals. With fall edging itself into winter and the Holidays approaching with a hasty fury, it was a hard offer to pass up.

Especially because Yuta was failing his mandatory course in Choreography Composition Theory. His major wasn’t in any way related to Dance, but SMU prided itself in producing entertainers capable of _all_ forms of performing art. He’d been slacking off on the class for ages since it wasn’t entirely important for his own personal academic focus, but this was his senior year and he refused to delay his progression into his master’s program by failing something as basic as the _theory_ of _trying_ to create a dance. He didn’t even have to fucking dance to pass, there was no way he could justify flunking out.

Having Ten and Sicheng in the same room pretty much guaranteed any work he submitted would be completed to perfection. They weren’t able to _not_ correct him when they saw him getting something wrong that was so elementary to them. ‘ _It would be like watching a child write that two plus two equals twenty two on their homework and not taking a moment to explain addition to them,’_ Ten had once said, making Yuta feel just the slightest bit foolish for his mistakes.

Even so, he’d be an idiot not to let the two dance majors revise his thesis work before the end of the semester, and might not get another chance to sit down with both of them at once before they got preoccupied with their own finals.

“What’s all that commotion downstairs?” Sicheng asked lightly, and Yuta noticed the yelling for the first time.

Ugh. There was just never a calm day around here.

A trip down the stairs revealed the fact that several of their guests were already arriving to help set up for this ridiculous party. It also revealed the fact that one of their _blacklisted_ guests was trying to get in.

“Aish, why be such a bother?” Taeyong was asking, scratching the back of his head a little nervously. He was seated on their couch, feet tucked beneath him, shoulders curled forward. He looked tiny like that. Much, much too tiny to be existing in an environment where his word was law, but there was an aspect of controversy in _all_ of them, Yuta believed.

Jaehyun, the world’s least studious honors student. Sicheng, a shameless slut who wanted nothing more than to just meet someone worthy of settling him down.  Mark, who could solve any problem in the world as long as he _didn’t_ put his mind to it. Doyoung, who fell in love with everyone except himself. Taeil, the mature voice of reason who was still a child at heart. Even Yuta himself, who strongly felt that morality was relative and still passed judgement based on his own.

More than any of them, perhaps, were the two leaders of it all. Taeyong, who destroyed his body to hide from his mind. Johnny, who always held people too tightly until they slipped through his fingers. They were more than that, though.

They were _chaos_.

Taeyong was the chaotic good that counterbalanced Johnny’s chaotic neutral. Heechul, who was sitting across from the two of them on the coffee table, was the lawful evil that had come to rain on their self-indulgent parade.

As he always did.

“This … is causing a _scene_ ,” Their professor accurately noted in reference to the commotion at their half-open front door, where a woman Yuta was painfully familiar with was trying to squeeze her way into the space despite Jaehyun’s firm resistance.

“She can’t come.” Johnny stated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. His muscles bulged against the skin-tight polyester of his shirt and Yuta wondered idly if there was some sort of theme or if the slightly elder boy had just been feeling a little more showy than usual. Johnny liked to come off big and strong, but Heechul knew them well enough to be in on the secret that he was actually a big softy.

“You can’t _ban_ one of our sisters from a party you’re holding here,” Heechul insisted, directing his words to Taeyong, who was shrinking even further in on himself and likely dying for a hit of anything he could get his hands on, “What the fuck did she even do?”

Johnny huffed, and Yuta barged his way onto the couch between them, offering each of his brothers a reassuring pat on the thigh in hopes that it would lighten the load of their stress. It failed spectacularly, Taeyong flinching away with a motion so automatic that Yuta would have been offended if he didn’t know him better, and Johnny ignoring the gesture entirely.

“She’s my ex, and she cheated on me. _With_ Taeyong,” Johnny reminded, and Yuta was starting to get at least a semblance of an understanding of what was going on here.

“Is Ten paying for this party?” He inquired, although he already had his answer just by recognizing how firmly Seulgi had been banned from it.

Those two had one of those strange nasty histories where there’s less of a story to tell and more of a general animosity to portray. If Ten was throwing this party, Johnny was surely trying to get him to come to it. If Seulgi came, there was no way in hell that Ten would show his face.

Admittedly, Ten wasn’t going to show up knowing that _Johnny_ was there either, but that was likely not being considered from Johnny’s point of view.

“You two have been screwing the same bimbos for as long as I’ve known you. What makes this one so special?” Heechul demanded, and Johnny and Taeyong were looking over Yuta to have one of those silent conversations they were prone to. Before they seemed able to draw any conclusion to this wordless exchange, however, Jaehyun relented and let Seulgi _in_ , and she strode right into the living room, perching to Heechul’s left on the coffee table herself.

“What kind of rise do you get out of banning me from Chenle Zhong’s birthday party, Johnny? You _know_ my father works for his parents’ company – it would be an embarrassment to my family if I didn’t show.” Seulgi had quieted down a lot compared to her hollering at the door and Yuta was starting to lose interest in this discussion, but was still determined to offer what little assistance he might be able to give.

“Send an expensive gift,” Johnny suggested with a shrug, “If coming to Tau Nu Pi events was so damn important to you, maybe you shouldn’t have double crossed the current standing presiders over Tau Nu Pi?” The question was mocking, Johnny’s tone cold and unforgiving, “I haven’t even been able to _trust_ again after what you did. I haven’t had a _single_ relationship since you decided to fuck my best friend and y’know what? Your father’s standing at work doesn’t mean shit to me.”

Seulgi looked _livid_. Honestly, Yuta could understand. Johnny was criminalizing her pretty heavily considering the way everything had actually gone down. She was far from the only guilty party here, and it wasn’t like Johnny was holding any particular grudge against Taeyong.

“ _You’re_ really holding it against _me_ that _I_ fucked your best friend?” She screeched out, standing up furiously enough that she nearly knocked Heechul from the table, “After what _you did_?”

Taeyong looked like he wanted to sink through the floor and Yuta didn’t blame him. It was strange how involved he was in this story compared to his complete detachment from the conversation. Personally, Yuta didn’t think that what Taeyong and Seulgi had done to Johnny really had _anything_ to do with Johnny’s choice to remain single for the last couple of years. More so, it was what _Johnny_ had done to _Seulgi_ that had made him realize he didn’t want to be in a relationship. It was completely unrelated to any alleged loss of _trust_. He wanted a level of freedom to take whatever and whoever he wanted without the limitations of monogamy. He wanted to _be_ trusted, even when he wanted to be himself.

“Could we have a minute with her? Alone, please?” Taeyong asked, looking at Heechul, “There’s a component to all of this that she’s not really aware of, but it’s not something you want to know.”

The appropriate translation here was that it wasn’t something that Heechul could turn a blind eye to if he was in the loop, and since Heechul was pretty much willing to turn a blind eye to everything – that was saying something. Most likely, this confirmed that Ten was sponsoring the party. Tau Nu Pi’s frat house couldn’t be used as a _venue_. If they weren’t the true hosts here, it was against the fraternity’s policy for them to be  holding the event. Especially considering it was in honor of someone who wasn’t even a student at the university.

Mind full of suspicions, Yuta left alongside Heechul, meeting a frustrated Jaehyun at the door as he escorted their professor out onto the front porch.

“They’ve got you on the _door_?” Yuta questioned, a little incredulously. The door was kind of Taeyong’s _thing_. He took some kind of twisted pleasure in being the final decision maker when it came to who was allowed in and out. It was a duty that Doyoung also enjoyed (and was much better at) but one that Jaehyun openly despised. He felt, as Yuta did, that it was boring to stand _outside_ of a party all night long.

Jaehyun shook his head, “I think _Jisung’s_ on the door tonight, actually. He’s just also busy distracting the birthday boy until they arrive, so.”

Yuta blinked. “Jisung _Park_? The eleventh grader? He’s on _our_ door?”

Jaehyun offered little more an a shrug and Yuta sighed. He supposed that if you threw a party for a high schooler it was no surprise that it would be staffed by a high schooler. But still. That seemed a little … weird. Something was just really fucking weird about this whole party.

It wasn’t that Yuta was upset that they were doing something for Chenle. He had absolutely nothing against Chenle. He couldn’t say he was as close to the kids at the youth center as some of his other frat brothers were, but he liked them well enough and they weren’t any major burden to have around. He didn’t even consider it too much of a burden when they got pinned with him by Johnny after being caught up to no good downstairs and sent away for time out.

Considering Yuta was probably the most sober person in their household, it made sense that he ended up designated babysitter. He wasn’t wooed by the temptation of any typical vices, be it drugs, sex, or alcohol. He could hold his liquor when he drank, didn’t have any interest in weed and refused to try anything stronger.

Sex … well.

His chosen partner on that front was quite conspicuously unavailable for any monogamous long term commitment at this time, and monogamous long term commitment was something Yuta considered absolutely necessary. Not … in _all_ sexual partners, of course. Just. Specifically the one he wanted, that was all.  

“You don’t mind if I tag along with you to Ten’s, do you?” Jaehyun asked, looking up from his phone and finding Yuta’s eyes with weary stillness, “It’s not like … an orgy or something, is it?”

Yuta collapsed into one of their lawn chairs, wasting no time wondering how it had ended up on the front porch instead of in the back yard and crossed his arms, “An orgy between _who_? It’s gonna be me, Ten, Jungwoo, and Sicheng.”

Jaehyun was staring at him as if he didn’t understand what the confusion was.

“You know, just because all four of us are gay doesn’t mean that everything we do together is romantic,” Yuta clarified, very slowly, as if speaking to a young child, “There’s this thing that everyone in this fucking frat seems to forget about called a _platonic_ relationship. You should give it a shot with a girl or two some time, they really like them. _Prefer_ them, actually, in most cases.”

Jaehyun shrugged, “The way I hear it, Jungwoo’s getting a little hot and bothered. Seems to me like the campus _sweetheart_ might be competing for the title of campus _slut_ ,”

Yuta was personally, not at all amused by Jaehyun’s joke. Primarily because he didn’t have to ask who, exactly, Jungwoo would be competing _against_.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

Ah, speak of the devil.

Sicheng looked … uncomfortably exquisite, in black jeans that sat low enough on the hips to see the band of his Gucci jock strap beneath. He wore one of Yuta’s tank tops, presumably for no purpose other than to fuck with him, and Taeil’s leather jacket – in case the first method of torture was ineffective. He had on a Christian Dior neck scarf that Yuta could _swear_ he’d last seen around Doyoung’s latest conquests’ neck, and his hair was jelled out of his eyes with not a single strand out of place.

“Do you mind if Jaehyun tags along?” Yuta asked, reaching forward so that Sicheng’s Adams Apple sat symmetrically between the I and O of DIOR.

Naturally, Sicheng allowed the correction and then slapped Yuta’s hands away as soon as it was done, “I mean I don’t care one way or another, but what about our big gay orgy?”

Jaehyun snorted. Yuta wished Sicheng wouldn’t perpetuate this nonsense. There was enough _legitimate_ fodder for the rumor mill without encouraging lies. Even so, he’d learned a long time ago that any attempts at telling Sicheng how to live, what to do, or what to _say_ were a waste of his breath and a purposeless misuse of his time.

Besides, he loved him unconditionally. Why would he ever ask him to change?

“We’ll have to reschedule it to another time,” He retorted, opting to play along rather than start a fight.

“I dunno,” Sicheng lightly mused, resting a hand on Jaehyun’s bicep and giving it a squeeze. His nails were freshly manicured, clear polish making them glossy and full of shine, “I think I could turn him out,”

Yuta bit the inside of his cheek. Jaehyun looked at Sicheng’s hand like it was an unfortunate stain he’d just noticed on his shirt rather than an obnoxiously crass flirtation.

“I have a girlfriend, and she has a very, _very_ nice vagina – which, I’ll remind you, is a strong preference for me." Jaehyun answered, hopping down off the porch and starting their walk up to the shuttle, “Fuck knows you’ve got a pretty face, Winwinnie – but a pretty pussy trumps _all_.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. Sicheng giggled, offering a blunt ‘can’t relate’ in the face of Jaehyun’s rudely worded declination.

“You know this is exactly the kind of disgusting, misogynistic, line of thinking that makes those tree-huggers literally _protest_ our fraternity in front of the Freshman building, right?”

They both starred back at him blankly. Jaehyun shook his head, “Y’know this whole time, I thought it was all the coke.”

It was definitely also the coke.

“My _point_ is that we’re in something of a crisis as far as acquiring pledges goes. We’ve got a plethora of goody-two-shoes fraternities on campus that _don’t_ give their pledges drug addictions and _don’t_ get called out for objectifying women and _don’t_ let underage high schoolers throw college parties. We have … let’s see … how many was it? Oh, right. Zero. We have _zero_ new pledges on line this fall. Has it ever occurred to either of you that maybe if we weren’t all _notoriously shitty human beings_ , people would _want_ to live with us?” Yuta asked, boarding the bus halfway through his tirade and ignoring the attention he received for it from two of their sorority sisters who were getting off to go help set up the party.

“Nope, not even once.” Sicheng answered, sprawling over two seats and crossing his legs, “We throw the best parties, with the hottest people, and we don’t actually _need_ new pledges to finance ourselves with dues anymore. Our reputation is making our money at this point – why complain about it?” He took out his phone and clicked around on it for a moment, “Besides, we _aren’t_ shitty human beings – notorious or not, we’re good people. If outsiders are two dense to see that, they can stay _outside_ where they belong.”

Yuta really, really hated arguing with Sicheng, so he didn’t. He plugged in his headphones and listened to music for the rest of the ride, letting the tension fizzle out of existence during their journey north.

They’re getting off of the bus when all three of their phones go off at once, and Yuta checks the notification and groans loudly, a direct contrast to Jaehyun’s abrupt laughter.

“Y’know what? I actually have a date,” Sicheng supposedly recalled, walking towards the rather notoriously _gross_ motel beside N-U instead of towards the duplex.

“Bullshit, you just don’t want to hang out with Ten in a bad mood,” Jaehyun called after him, laughing again when Sicheng gave a guilty shrug and shouted back at them to have fun.

The text they’d received had been a simple one. It was a list that was published in November of every year, compiled in secret by a select few students and then distributed, en masse, to the entire campus via a mildly intrusive mobile virus.

It was a list of _untouchables_. Typically, students who were known to be carrying spreadable STDs, students who had a bad reputation for being dangerous or … forceful, and every once and a while, on an off chance, if you were important enough for your voice to matter, students who _someone_ was placing on _reserve_.

To be on the list was heinous. Your sex life would be destroyed in about two seconds flat, and if your social life survived it was likely that you didn’t meet your friends at SMU. Usually, the same collection of two dozen or so names were listed – alphabetically, by surname.

The list went out in July in preparation for the Fall semester, and again around this time in preparation for the Spring semester. Since July, there had been only _one_ addition:

**KIM, JUNGWOO – SOPHMORE**

Ten was going to have a stroke, and Yuta was about to have to catch him before he hit the floor. He wasn’t the kind of friend to pussy out on being the bearer of bad news, though. Following Jaehyun inside and down the dark hallway that lead to Ten’s door wasn’t an easy walk, but  Yuta took it one step at a time like he did everything else.

The door was locked when they got up to it, but Jaehyun had a key and let himself in. There were days when Yuta forgot he was actually one of the only members of Tau Nu Pi that had never lived in N-U. It seemed strange that no one ever got rid of their key, considering most of them had only lasted here for a few weeks or so.

Maybe it was just that there was something … homey, about the duplex. It felt like the beginning of a universe that everyone wanted to be a part of. Doyoung claimed it was a combination of the second-hand marijuana fumes all of Ten’s art, plastered all over the walls – but Yuta didn’t think so at all. The smoke gave him a headache and while Ten’s sketches certainly gave the place a kind of ass backwards Alice in Wonderland gone Tim Burton vibe, he didn’t think it was anything that was _physically_ in Ten’s space at all.

It was his love. You could … _feel it_. Like coming back to your parents’ house for the Holidays. He welcomed everyone into his home like it was still _theirs_ , no matter how briefly they’d been here. No matter whether they’d ever lived here or not.

Ten was in a lot of pain, and it made him kind of a salty bitch about a lot of things – but he loved _hard_ and showered every single person around him with it. Of course he got mean from time to time. He _spoiled_ them and they barely gave him anything for it in return, always asking for more.

Yuta _knew_ Ten had paid for Chenle’s party. He knew Ten had offered and he knew Johnny and Taeyong had _let him_ and he was already having a hard time forgiving them despite the fact that this information hadn’t been properly confirmed yet. He had half a mind to ask Ten himself since he hadn’t gotten a straight answer from anyone back at the frat house, but when they walk through that door and he sees that for once, miraculously, Ten seems to be in an exquisitely good mood … he just doesn’t have the heart to risk fucking it up.

“Good evening!” Ten crooned. He was sprawled over the arms of his favorite comfy chair, martini glass in hand, his knobby feet poking out from the bottom of what was – unmistakably – a _women’s_ nightgown of some sort.  

“Nice negligee,” Jaehyun quipped, raising an openly critical brow.

“Thank you very much, Jaehyun. Your opinion is _so_ important to me,” Ten mocked back, sipping his martini, which exposed one of his nipples as the fabric shifted to accommodate the motion.

“It’s a little big on you,” Jaehyun noted, walking boldly over to the door to Ten’s bedroom and poking his head inside, likely to check and see if Jungwoo was home and had seen his name added to The List.

“Yes,” Ten replied, easily, “It’s my sisters and she isn’t blessed with my slim figure. I don’t really fill out the top as nicely as she does, but then – she’s not really filling out the bottom at all.”

Not finding Jungwoo, Jaehyun plops himself down on the couch and Yuta comes to sit beside him.

“I can see your dick.”

Jaehyun’s words almost prompt Yuta to look down at himself for a second before he realizes that they’re for Ten, whose negligee is entirely sheer from head to toe.

Ten shrugged, “Sorry, I thought it’d just be us girls. Where’s Sicheng, anyway? I was looking forward to our big gay orgy.”

 Yuta didn’t know exactly how to explain that Sicheng hadn’t wanted to run into Ten in a bad mood and had ditched them, because that would involve telling Ten why they’d thought he’d be in a bad mood – and if his phone hadn’t received the blast, he really didn’t _need_ that information, did he?

“Is he avoiding me because my little baby’s listed as one of next semester’s untouchables?”

Ten swallowed down the remainder of his martini like he wasn’t psychic in the slightest, but Yuta gave him a little squint just to be sure.

“I’ll have you all know I’m not at all upset,” The dancer revealed, “In fact, I’m the one who wanted him added,”

Yuta didn’t think it very likely that Ten had any control one way or another who was included on that list, and he said so.

“If you had that kind of power, you’d have added Johnny. _Years_ ago.” Jaehyun pointed out, taking Ten’s martini glass from his hand and setting it on the coffee table.

“Bold of you to assume I give a single fuck what John Seo does with his micropenis.” Ten drawled, rising from his chair and letting the train of his negligee trail behind him as he drifted into the kitchen for more alcohol, “While I do find _that man_ to be significantly more dangerous than he’s given credit for, he’s not a _rapist_ – and if he was carrying any diseases the whole campus would have it by now anyway, so what would be the point of adding him?”

Yuta admired Jaehyun his _gall_ for the next thing he said:

“You do know there’s a third reason people get added, don’t you?”

The concept that Ten would have Johnny on _reserve_ was one that was significantly less unlikely than the sheer disgust on Ten’s face would make it seem if you paid attention. They were … absolutely infatuated with one another. With Ten, he tended to express that by harping on Johnny rather than singing his praises, but it was still noticeable that neither of them seemed to go a single day without talking about one another – good or bad.

Yuta was able to recognize their behavior as infatuation because he, himself suffered from a similar state of unrequited affection.

But that was another story altogether.

He’d made it clear enough to Sicheng that he was in love with him. As clear as possible without saying it outright. At this point, the ball was in his court – and he wasn’t making a play. Yuta could only assume that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. Unfortunately, that didn’t diminish them at all.

“Aren’t you at least worried about how Jungwoo’s gonna react to seeing he’s been added to the list?” Yuta asked, beginning to unload his bag so he could get started with his homework. Ten, it seemed, was determined to drink the day away in his lingerie whether or not this was officially a study date, but Yuta’s work had to get done and he wasn’t going to slack on it just because Ten was slacking on his.

“Jungwoo’s phone screen has been cracked since the end of October, he can’t read texts,” Ten revealed, martini shaker rattling away in one hand. Yuta wondered how exactly that had happened and had half a mind to _ask_ when Jungwoo came in through the still slightly ajar front door to the apartment, dressed only in a very _brief_ pair of baby pink boxer briefs and absurdly fluffy white socks.

“Hey everybody,” The youngest male groggily chirped, kissing Yuta’s cheek softly before wrapping himself around Ten’s back, “Kun’s not home yet?”

Ten and Jungwoo were pressed together in a softly affectionate gradient of warm skin and pink fabric, and Yuta was having a bit of a hard time looking away from them. It wasn’t that he was attracted to either of them (he wasn’t) just that the _aesthetic_ of pretty boys half naked and rubbing against each other (however platonic their cuddling may be) was one he enjoyed and found comfort in.

Jaehyun did not seem to agree: “Is there a _reason_ that no one’s dressed?”

Jungwoo shrugged, “I thought it was gonna be a ladies night. What’s up with Sicheng? It’s not like him to show up late to an orgy…”

Jaehyun crossed his arms and gave Yuta a pointed look, which he ignored with firm resolve.

This. Was. _Not_. A sex party. It was a _study night_. Purely academic. All of them just _happened_ to be gay. That did _not_ make them girls and it did _not_ make this a _fucking orgy_.

“In all seriousness though, it’s kind of a long story.” Jungwoo amended, likely after seeing the openly blunt disapproval on Yuta’s face, “So as you’ve probably seen on your social media, last night Kun and Lucas had … a little bit of a _fire_ -”

“Like, possibly the world’s _smallest_ fire,” Ten chimed in. Yuta had seen it on Lucas’ snapchat story as Kun was extinguishing it and could agree that the fire was remarkably un-extraordinary.

“-and our sprinkler system went off but like … _just_ in me and Ten’s room-”

“Because the universe hates me and wants only suffering for me,” Ten added.

“We were both at the studio while this was going on, because I asked Ten if he would walk me through the choreography for the hip hop showcase he did last month ‘cause it looked _really_ cool, and Kun and Lucas didn’t realize the sprinkler went off in our room, and by the time we got home last night all of our clothes were like _really_ weird smelling-”

“Mildewed. Brand new Valentino suit with the tags still on it – fucking _mildewed_ because God doesn’t think I’m worthy of love.” Ten’s interjections were really the better part of this story, Yuta decided.

“Our washer doesn’t really have the capacity to wash an entire walk-in closet worth of clothes at one time, so we had to call a laundry service to come and get the clothes this morning, but that leaves us either wearing the sweaty clothes we were dancing in last night or what little we have that didn’t get sprinkled on, so I’m in the spare socks and undies that I usually keep in my backpack and Ten … Ten what _is_ this?” Jungwoo asked, seeming to notice for the first time how utterly ridiculous it was that his best friend was lounging in a floor-length women’s lace chemise.

“Remember how I ordered my sister that gorgeous bridal negligee for her wedding night but the bitch _changed her mind_ and didn’t even fucking get married?” He paused to wait for Jungwoo’s nod, “Yeah, this was still in the box. The cardboard was ruined but the fabric itself was perfectly dry. Good on you, Etsy!” He raised the martini shaker in a silent toast before pouring himself a fresh drink.

Yuta now had a bit of a point to make:

“See, Jaehyun? I _told_ you it’s not a-”

“I’m not already missing our big gay orgy am I?”

Yuta … was going to kill someone today.

“Kun!” Jungwoo shrieked, abandoning Ten to bolt over to their third roommate with childlike delight, “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week! You’re really gonna get drunk with us? Not just say you are and get bored and smoke instead?”

This … was a study night.

Which finally became apparent about an hour later, when Ten was buzzed enough to settle into his chair, headphones plugged into one of his ears, fingers tapping along to the tune of a  song Yuta couldn’t recognize at the courteously low volume. Kun had borrowed Ten’s Macbook to use some kind of editing software that was apparently not available yet on his own Windows machine, and was working vigorously on touching up the last pieces of his final in videography.  He’d taken over the second chair, leaving Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and Yuta the couch. They were able to fit pretty comfortably, Jungwoo cuddled up close to Jaehyun’s side and speaking lowly to him while Yuta finished his own final on Kun’s free computer.

The dynamic was not unlike how it normally would have been, if Sicheng had come instead of Jaehyun. Well, maybe a little more _touchy_ , as Sicheng was a bit of a slapper and a flincher whereas Jaehyun didn’t really seem to care one way or another that Jungwoo (who seemed _constantly_ touch starved) was all but straddling him.

“Do people really call you The Sandman?” Jungwoo inquired softly, his pleasant laugh filling the space with lighthearted ease as both Ten and Kun simultaneously uttered a sharp ‘No.’ to combat Jaehyun’s instantaneous ‘Of course!’.

“Don’t _lie_ ,” Jungwoo scolded, flicking Jaehyun’s forehead, “I’ll call you that if you want, Jaehyunnie.”

Jaehyun frowned, “It’s weird if you’re not a customer, though.”

Jungwoo was whining, insistent that he wanted to have a nickname for Jaehyun, since he didn’t have a nickname for anyone else he talked to. This way, Jungwoo explained, Jaehyun would always know that he was special and not just your classic, Type A, Tau Nu Pi trash.

Yuta wondered if he was special too, or fell into the trash category.

Jungwoo pretty much always called him Yuta, so. Probably the latter.

Whatever. He didn’t give a fuck one way or the other right now, he was too focused on the conclusion to his essay, which he was passing over to Ten for editing purposes about twenty minutes later, watching nervously as the dancer’s eyes flickered slowly over the document, gaze concentrated and critical.

He must have been about a third of the way through when Sicheng finally showed up, kiss bruised and bedraggled with a blessedly _un_ -sexed looking Taeil at his side. They must have met up _after_ Sicheng had hooked up with whoever he’d hooked up with. Which was good, because Yuta shared a bedroom with Taeil and had already put a great deal of thought into how exactly he would go about killing him in the night if the need ever arose.

“When are you gonna start making people give us back their keys?” Kun asked Ten, halfway ignoring the entry of the other two males.

Yuta couldn’t actually remember what Kun’s current beef was with Sicheng these days, but he knew Sicheng had started it, and was pretty sure Ten would end up finishing it. Which would hopefully be soon, because Yuta had also considered how he would go about Kun’s demise if any legitimate reason to rid the world of him came up. 

To be fair, Yuta had pretty much figured out how he would go about murdering just about everyone he knew, because one just really couldn’t tell when homicide would become necessary – but a poorly planned execution was a guaranteed lifetime in prison and Yuta really, really, didn’t want to go to jail.

To _Ten’s_ credit – he offered absolutely no response to Kun’s question, waving Sicheng over and pulling him down to perch on one of his thighs so they could read over Yuta’s essay together.

Unfortunately for Yuta, they both came up frowning when they were done.

“You’re not really grasping the concept of either of the pieces you’re writing about here, so the compare and contrast aspect that you’re going for in the last few paragraphs really misses the mark,” Ten stated, bluntly.

“Your description of them is perfect in the first few paragraphs,” Sicheng offers, “You did a good job breaking each move down, but I feel like you’re not really … understanding how either of these would execute in reality,”

There’s a moment where Sicheng and Ten are staring at each other, in a wordless conversation. It reminds Yuta of Johnny and Taeyong, except that Sicheng and Ten seem to be having more a silent _argument_ than an _agreement_.

“That footwork? In this negligee?” Ten finally asks after two solid minutes of silence, and Sicheng gives up a defeated sigh and stands from his position on Ten’s lap.

“This is the one and only time I am _ever_ going to dance for you, so savor it.” Sicheng snaps out, bitterly – realization finally dawning on Yuta, easily reaching the conclusion that they’re going to _show him_ why his choreography concept doesn’t work when it’s not on paper.

Oh.

So … so a dance that Yuta had choreographed (poorly) and had only ever envisioned mentally (poorly) was about to be performed for his (unworthy) eyes by (the love of his life) Sicheng.

Right. Okay, that was a thing that was … fucking happening.

Yuta stood up and walked immediately over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself two shots, in a row, and swallowing them down to the sound of Jungwoo’s observant giggles and Jaehyun’s snort of amusement.

His love for Sicheng was something of an _open_ secret – meaning that every single person Yuta had ever met found it obvious. Which, honestly, didn’t really matter; seeing as Sicheng didn’t love him back and they were both in Tau Nu Pi anyway. A dating ban was firmly in place. Brothers _couldn’t_ date brothers. It was why they hadn’t been able to list Lucas as a prospect, which had the rule fresh on everyone’s mind.

But Lucas had never _wanted_ to be in Tau Nu Pi. Sicheng _had_. Yuta wasn’t greedy enough to ever stop him from pledging just so he could … what? Be another one of his one night stands?

No thanks.

“Did you bring the music you wrote this for with you?” Ten asked him on the way to his Bluetooth speaker.

“No, actually.” Yuta admitted, a little bashfully, “I can run back and get it though, if it’s helpful?”

Judging by the way the dancers were looking at him, it was deemed more necessary than helpful. Meaning, if he wanted this final out of the way he should head back to the frat house sooner rather than later.

Yuta could take a hint.

He got his shoes back on fairly quickly, and was rushing out of the door fast enough to catch the next shuttle going south, getting off in front of Tau Nu Pi just fifteen minutes from when he’d left N-U.

The party, at this point, was going full force. Yuta hadn’t realized how much time he’d been at Ten’s, but a quick glance at his phone revealed that it was now just after eleven thirty. Pretty early for things to be this lively, but it _was_ for a high school student, so. Most likely it wouldn’t go until the early hours of the morning.

He expected to see Jisung Park guarding his entry upon approaching the house. He _didn’t_ expect to see Chenle Zhong two feet away from them on one of the porch chairs, but that was what he walked up to. Music blasting so loud it could shake the bricks, what seemed like a thousand, _billion_ different lights casting colorful prisms against the window panes, the glistening luxury of pearls draped over the smooth satin fabric of the most extravagant ‘Happy Birthday!’ banner that Yuta had ever laid his eyes on … and the guest of honor himself, looking distinctly uninterested.

Even from the outside looking in, it was about a hundred times more grandeur than Yuta had ever seen the place before – and a hundred times more _packed_ , too. There were so many cars out front that it was a miracle the bus had gotten by, and he could tell by the bumper stickers that they weren’t limited to just students from SMU. This event was _the_ event this month – something Chenle, he’d thought, would have _coveted_.

So he had to ask the obvious question, of course:

“Why’re you sitting out here by yourself?”

Chenle grinned wide at the sight of him, faltering when he voiced his question and all out frowning as he answered, “This party it’s … it’s perfect,” He praised, giving a half-smile that looked like it took more effort than it was worth, “It’s so _me_ , and it’s so _big_ and … it doesn’t really belong here, if that makes sense.”

Yuta sat down on the other chair and snatched the beer Jisung had been nursing out of his hand, taking a long sip and trying to understand what Chenle was explaining to him.

“Look, It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” Chenle continued,  “The idea was really, really good and I can’t believe Renjun pulled it off, but like … Renjun isn’t _here_. Jeno isn’t here, and Jaemin isn’t here, and half of Tau Nu Pi isn’t here. No high school kid’s parents were gonna let them go to a _frat house party_ and no actual _frat brothers_ are gonna go to a high school kid’s party. I guess … I guess I just wanted to spend my birthday with people I actually _know_.”

Jisung looked remarkably unoffended considering he was Chenle’s best friend and standing about thirty inches away from him.

Yuta put some real thought into Chenle’s complaint. He did, kind of, think the kid was being a bit of a brat about this whole situation, considering how much time and money had gone into it – but Chenle was raised with a disposable income and went to a school that allowed him an absurd amount of free time. Nothing that had been spent was anything he treated as if it held value, and Yuta was trying to at least be understanding of that mindset before casting judgement.

Chenle’s archetype, Yuta’s media analysis professor would have said, was strongly stereotypical of the _Lonely Rich Kid_ TV Trope. He checked all the boxes: parental abandonment, a shortage of close friends, and limitless financial resources.

He didn’t know much about Chenle, if he was being fair, but he did know that the boy wasn’t the type who would ever be happy _buying_ his friends. It showed in who his friends _were_. It also was pretty telling that he spent the majority of his weekends at parties, where he could feel surrounded by the glitz and glam of social interaction and not permanently tied down by any financial leeches afterwards. Ten had lamented, once, that a trashy house party was the only place in the world where someone both wealthy and beautiful could still experience a genuine disadvantage. To be antisocial, he claimed, was a sin that a thick wallet or a pretty face could excuse most anywhere else. But to be the only person alone at a house party could only _ever_ mean trouble.

Yuta decided that he could understand Chenle’s disappointment, even if he couldn’t relate to it.

“You wanna get out of here?” He found himself asking, “Doyoung should be home from his vocal lesson any minute, I’m sure he’d take you out to dinner or something if you wanted. I can text him,”

Chenle considered it, but shook his head, “I kind of wanted to go to Ten’s. I’ve spent my birthday with him pretty much every single year since I was born. Plus, he got me a really thoughtful gift, and I wanted to thank him in person, but…” He looked down at his feet, a little shyly, “Jaehyun posted this tweet about how N-U is having some big gay orgy or something, and I figure he’s probably busy with that, so.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s not an orgy,” Yuta said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. For the _first_ time, the person he was talking to actually _listened to him_ , which was a relief, “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. He paid for all of this, you know.”

Chenle’s eyes went wide, and he looked … sad. Genuinely sad. Not the way he’d been pouting before, out of slight annoyance for the failure of this party, but – a _more kind_ sadness. The sadness of someone who understood every unsaid implication of how, exactly, this entire event had become what it became, and how oddly cruel the prospect was to its financial backer.

“I wanna see him, too.” Chenle whispered, and Yuta gave an affirmative nod.

“Let me just grab something from my room, I’ll be right back down and we can go together.”

When Yuta got back to the front porch, Jisung was out of sight and Chenle was wrapped tightly in Doyoung’s arms – which was less surprising than it should have been. Doyoung was freakishly perceptive at knowing when someone he loved was unhappy and also gave the kind of hugs that made people break down and refuse to let go.

Yuta tried to avoid direct eye contact with him at all times because of this. His emotions were his own private business, thank you very much.

Luckily, however, Doyoung was a total pussy and absolutely insisted on driving them to N-U even though the shuttle was only a stop away when they were leaving. It probably saved them all of five minutes total as far as time went, but that was an extra five minutes for Yuta to get his final finished so he was grateful for even the smallest of miracles.

Ten was still in the fucking negligee when he answered the door.

But he was wearing underwear beneath it.

Small miracles, indeed.

He also didn’t question Chenle’s presence, which was a little odd. Later, when Yuta asked him _why_ he didn’t ask Chenle what happened, he would say that the worst case scenario of a Tau Nu Pi party gone wrong was something he hadn’t had the emotional bandwidth to hear coming from someone he cared so much about. And Yuta could get that.

Sicheng, it seemed, was now much too drunk to properly dance for him – but Ten made his best attempt with the negligee hiked up over his knees, and Taeil took a surprisingly okay whack at it … as did Kun, and Jaehyun, and Chenle – and Jungwoo and Doyoung as a _duet_.

So … everyone _except_ Sicheng danced for him, actually.

By the time Yuta sat back down at the computer, he’d seen the damn choreo _butchered_ so many times that he could piece together exactly what was wrong with it, so he still got the help he needed for his final.

That didn’t stop Mark and Lucas from dancing to it when Lucas got home though. Which Mark was weirdly good at and Lucas was so hilariously bad at that all of them nearly passed out laughing at him.

Yuta deduced that no, it wasn’t really right for Tau Nu Pi to make him share a party with Sicheng; and no, it wasn’t really right for Tau Nu Pi to throw a party for Chenle. 

Tau Nu Pi wasn’t really good at placing it’s worth in _people_. But Ten was. And even if it was a month late, and he had to share it with someone who would never love him back – even if he had to share it with a _high school kid_ … this had been a pretty solid way to finally really celebrate his birthday.

Even without a big gay orgy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for being so patient and supportive!! i really love seeing this fic get kudos and your comments just ... keep me going. they really do. all my love goes out to you guys.
> 
> ten’s [negligee](https://www.etsy.com/listing/212357693/sheer-nude-bridal-lingerie-embroidered?ref=user_profile&sca=1) 
> 
> **spoiler alert** : subscribe so you don’t miss the johnten kiss next chapter O.O


	9. Among the Missing: Kun POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to any who celebrate them !!

If Kun had thought it was possible to get the weed smell out of the upholstery of his car seats before, it was definitely _not_ at this point. The musk of it hits as soon as the door opens, and when he shuts it behind him and reaches in his glove compartment for another joint, it intensifies before he even lights the thing. Moments later, his cab is filling with swirling tendrils of smoke and for the first time literally all fucking day he actually unclenches his jaw.

He has to talk to … someone, about this insanity. His fingers are navigating through his phone automatically, muscle memory knowing exactly what person can best soothe this uneasiness in his chest. The shrill shriek of rings that accompanies an outgoing FaceTime call is unpleasant on his ears – especially when he’s tinkering somewhere in between sober and high – but it’s still a warm relief when Jungwoo’s smiling face appears on the screen.

“Happy Birthday, Kunnie!” His roommate shouts out instead of hello, and Kun sighs.

“You already made like a five paragraph post on Facebook, _and_ left me a voicemail at midnight … _and_ texted me this morning,” Kun reminded him, “You can stop wishing me a happy birthday now. I get it, you love me.”

“I _do_ love you!” Jungwoo agreed, rolling over in what Kun could only assume was a bed, “Are you doing anything fun today?”

Kun brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, giving a shrug before realizing that he was too close to the camera for Jungwoo to have properly seen the motion of his shoulders. He held the smoke for a moment and exhaled, starting to feel his brain going pleasantly lax.

“I’m supposed to be going out to lunch with Ten in a couple of hours, but Johnny asked if he could come so. That’s probably dead, now.”

Jungwoo pretended to cough as Kun’s smoke clouded the camera, earning him a light chuckle of appreciation.

“How _is_ that going?” The younger male inquired, voice alight with curiosity, “I kind of thought they’d fuck and make up by now, living under the same roof for a week and a half.”

Johnny and Ten didn’t have the kind of relationship where they could just fuck and make up, but to Kun’s knowledge, Jungwoo had been spared from ever hearing the full story behind the disbandment of their title of _best friends_ , so he couldn’t blame him for making that assumption.

“It’s not just the same roof,” Kun reminded, internalizing a groan, “It’s the same _room_.”

A little backup briefing is required here.

Due to the fact that their winter break was only two weeks long and a great deal of their parents were working through it, several students had opted to simply stay on campus this year. Which, in and of itself, wasn’t really the problem.

The problem was that someone had vandalized the administration building the second day of winter break and so, much too late for affordable plane tickets during the holiday season and without much of anywhere to go, the school had booted everyone off of campus. The student union had banded together to place most of the people who were affected by this unfortunate circumstance in neighboring hotels.

Which ultimately, meant that on top of Kun, Lucas, and Ten being kicked out of N-U … they also hadn’t been able to book a hotel room, with everything full for something like a thirty mile radius of the campus.

Chenle had offered his own hotel room as a sanctuary for them, but his parents were staying with him for the holidays, and Ten didn’t want any of his activities (however innocent and docile they may _be_ ) getting reported back to his own parents.

Luckily (or unluckily) as soon as Lucas had mentioned even the slightest _whisper_ of their unfortunate predicament to his boyfriend, Mark had insisted that they all just come and stay with _him_ , since he was a townie anyway and his parents’ house had plenty of space.

Which … technically, would have been true. If Mark hadn’t insisted the same exact thing to Tau Nu Pi when he realized his brothers were _also_ getting kicked from the _frat house_ over break.

While Lucas was comfortably sleeping in bed with Mark every night, their basement guest suite (which, to be fair, _was_ quite large) was now accommodating Ten, Johnny, Yuta, Sicheng, and Kun himself. There was no room in the world large enough for five adult men – especially if two of them were making a pointed effort to pretend that the other didn’t exist.

They had a separate bathroom and kitchenette, because Mark’s family wanted to rent out the basement as a studio apartment or Air BNB, plus two double beds and a decently comfortable recliner. There wasn’t room for much _else_ , their suitcases taking up the entirety of the floor space, along with an ever-growing pile of Sicheng’s dirty clothes that he claimed he didn’t have anywhere to launder despite Mark’s mother offering to let him use the machine several times.

They never really used the kitchenette, as meals were served family style each morning upstairs, something that Tau Nu Pi seemed weirdly familiar with, and the dwellers of N-U really just couldn’t get with. The three of them were loners, and _late sleepers_. They all had that in common. It was one of the questions on the entry survey at SMU that could get you _landed_ at N-U when you applied for student housing.

_Do you prefer sleeping in or waking up early?_

Early risers didn’t ever end up assigned to the northern side of campus. It was quiet up there until noon and they all preferred it that way.  

Ten had threatened to get on a plane as soon as he woke up in the morning just about every morning since they’d arrived, and every single morning Kun demanded not to be left alone with these people, which prompted Ten to invite him along before reconsidering and deciding that he couldn’t afford to leave poor Lucas alone with such a hefty chunk of ‘dangerous men’.

Kun thought that Yuta, Sicheng, and Johnny were all pretty obnoxious to share a room with – but he didn’t think they were really _dangerous_. Not to Lucas, anyway.

To Ten … well, that might have been a different story.

Ten was, for lack of a better word, _ignoring_ Johnny. Meaning that he operated entirely as if he and Johnny were not existing in the same space. He didn’t look at him, didn’t respond to open ended questions, cut conversations short when Johnny became involved in them, and stared blankly forward on the few occasions that Johnny had attempted to speak to him directly. Johnny, out of what Kun could only presume to be _courtesy_ , wasn’t really pushing Ten to acknowledge him, and carried on not paying Ten any real attention either.

They both seemed able to peacefully coexist in this fashion, passing each other by without a word.

Up until the night before. Which, coincidentally, was why Kun was currently smoking the very last of the birthday weed he’d purchased himself in the passenger seat of his car instead of lying in bed beside Ten and looking forward to the highly likely possibility of waking up to cuddles and happy birthday kisses.

Kun wasn’t ashamed to admit he enjoyed a lot of physical affection, although he didn’t tend to initiate it. He didn’t have to. Ten and Jungwoo (especially Jungwoo) were going to keep dishing it out for him to accept whether he reciprocated or not.

“The same … room,” Jungwoo uttered, shaking his head and giving an audible sigh, “Tennie and Johnny in the same _room_. Have they tried to kill each other yet?”

“No,” Kun responded, unsure how exactly to explain everything to Jungwoo without giving away more than Ten was comfortable with. He wasn’t even sure he had an accurate _grasp_ on what Ten was comfortable with, “Mostly they just ignore each other, but last night, eh…”

“Last night what?” Jungwoo prompted lowly, eyebrows furrowing with concern, “They made tender love under the moonlight and you had to sleep alone?” He teased.

Kun rolled his eyes, entirely unamused.

“So, I’m sharing a bed with Ten, and Yuta’s sharing with Sicheng,” He began, “Johnny kind of … hasn’t been sleeping. I mean the guy can go like six _days_ without sleeping, but the day before yesterday at some point he just _crashed_ like really, really hard,”

It hadn’t been too bad. Johnny had seemed to _know_ that this hibernation was approaching and had made something of a nest for himself between the two beds on the floor, hijacking a pillow from Yuta and a blanket from Mark and Lucas (who seemed to be doing _just fine_ staying warm together without needing two).

It wasn’t him _sleeping_ for thirty hours that had been the problem. It had been the _aftermath_.

“When he woke up,” Kun bit his lip, took another hit and exhaled, “When he woke up he was—”

“Crying?” Jungwoo filled in, and Kun nodded.

So, this _was_ a regular thing. He’d thought so, based on the sheer lack of reaction from every single person who had witnessed it apart from him.

Especially Ten.

To say that Johnny had woken up crying would be a true statement, surely, but also paled in comparison to the gravity of the situation. He’d been … shaking. Completely _terrified_ , and seemingly frozen – eyes blown wide open, fevered, tremoring, breaths wheezing brokenly out of his throat like it was taking him a world of effort just to breathe.

But none of that was what had woken Kun up in the middle of the night. What woke Kun was the loss of warmth beside him when Ten scooted over to the opposite end of the bed. Away from him – closer to Johnny. He draped one arm over the edge, and when Kun sat up he could see Johnny, there on the floor, clutching to Ten’s hand.

Kun could hear Ten’s soft whisper of: _‘I’m right here’_ just barely over the ragged sound of Johnny’s breath, and then moments later – it evened out. Crisis averted.

Except that it woke up every single person in the room, and Yuta and Sicheng looked so entirely unsurprised that Kun felt a little silly for being shocked. Since when did Ten help Johnny with _anything_ and why was he so prepared to do so?

Jungwoo apparently had the answer to that:

“Yeah Johnny gets these really vivid and violent nightmares about Ten dying, it’s kind of cute. I was talking to Dongyoung about it on the way here,”

Kun tried not to react to _any part_ of this revelation. He’d kind of put together already that Jungwoo and Doyoung were together during the winter break, but he didn’t understand all of _why_. What he did know was that their grandparents were apparently retired to the same neighborhood, and since both of them intended to spend the holidays there, Jungwoo had ridden along with Doyoung.

It also kind of seemed like they were spending a lot of time _together_ , instead of with their respective families, though. But that really wasn’t any of Kun’s business – and odd as it was considering Doyoung was a firmly established member of Tau Nu Pi, he actually _trusted_ him with Jungwoo. His intentions were relatively clear and pretty innocent as far as those things go.

“He still taking you on dates?” Kun asked, deciding not to over stress Jungwoo by offering his honest thoughts on this Johnny and Ten situation – namely, that something big was about to happen and he couldn’t tell what it was yet but was outright scared of the possibilities.

Ten was just about at his limit as far as ignoring Johnny went – and they had a full three days left of break together in this house.

“They’re not dates!” Jungwoo insisted, “He just … gets hungry and figures I’m hungry too, so we go eat some food, and he pays because his family’s rich and mine isn’t.”

Kun stared at Jungwoo’s face and watched it go red as he continued looking at him. FaceTime was nice because it allowed for silent communication – but ultimately, Kun _did_ have something to say:

“You’re both _hungry_ … staying with your _grandparents_ ,” He raised a brow, “Aren’t grandparents pretty much the be-all-end-all of ending hunger in their college student grandkids? Your grandma sent us like a ten year supply of Hotteok after you complained _one time_ on the phone that the campus diner doesn’t serve dessert.” He reminded.

“I’m not always in the mood for Korean food,” Jungwoo claimed, “She can’t make a cheesesteak, and there’s a good cheesesteak place like … right up the street, but it’s too far to walk, and Dongyoung has a car and I don’t – but it’s totally _not ever_ a date.”

Kun smiled, “You’ve been calling him _Dongyoung_.”

Jungwoo gave a half-frustrated huff, “Yeah, well, I’m around him when he’s with his family, it would be weird to be the only person addressing him by his fake name.”

Kun wouldn’t really call it a _fake_ name. Doyoung had reinvented himself for college. He wasn’t the only one. Sicheng had two or _three_ names in constant circulation, the only person who called Lucas by his birth name was _Ten_ , which Kun was pretty sure originated simply from the fact that Ten had been addressing Lucas by the name he’d first seen on his paperwork when they’d found out who they’d been assigned as a roommate. There were honestly … countless numbers of people at SMU who changed their name when they reached college. It was a _performing arts university_. Obviously, people put on a bit of a show.

“You’ve also totally got a crush on him, though,” He states, fixing Jungwoo with a hard stare and chuckling fondly when the  younger male bites softly into his bottom lip.

“Yeah, I think I do. And honestly? It sucks, because he’s completely refusing to do anything about it. I leaned in to kiss him and you know what he did? He kissed my _forehead_. Like he’s my _father_. Isn’t this guy supposed to be the kinkiest fucker on campus? I don’t get it.”

He’s debating whether or not he wants to share his theory that Doyoung has been in love with Jungwoo for well over a year when his passenger door opens, sending a wafting cloud of smoke out into the Lee family’s driveway and revealing a rather stressed looking Lucas.

“Kun, you gotta come inside.”

Hanging up with Jungwoo and getting out of the car was a relatively painless ordeal, but crossing the threshold into the house when he could already hear Ten shrieking from _outside_ was not.

“-YOUR FILTHY DISGUSTING HANDS OFF OF ME RIGHT NOW YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

Obviously, he wasn’t surprised to find Ten thrashing in Johnny’s hold when he entered the living room. Johnny looked annoyed, if anything, and to his credit – they were standing in front of a very large glass display case that showcased the trophies of Mark’s childhood sports wins.

“Well I’m not about to let you keep shoving me around if you’re gonna _break something_ ,” Johnny retorted, arms wrapping securely over Ten’s, keeping him held tight against his own chest like some kind of human straightjacket.

Ten was shouting again, and Kun approached Yuta, who was observing with what was obviously a great deal of worry but also a significant lack of intention to intervene.

“What even started this?” He questioned lowly, not understanding how they’d gone from not speaking at all to screaming and _brawling_ in less than a single day.

“Johnny asked him if he needed a ride to Chenle’s parents’ New Year’s Eve party because he assumed you were gone, and then _Ten_ was like: oh, so _now_ you’re talking to me? Then _Johnny_ was like: you’re the one not talking to _me_ , and somehow they ended up fighting about who started ignoring who first.” Yuta answered, hugging his knees to his chest and getting more comfortable on the couch, “Mark and his parents are out helping his aunt with something so there’s absolutely no one here with enough authority to make them ceasefire and I sent Lucas to go get you before they like … actually hurt one another.”

Kun had no idea why Yuta thought _he_ held any authority over Ten at all. Plus the fact of the matter was that Johnny ignored Ten first, and he was more likely to pick a _side_ in this fight than try to terminate it.

He sat beside Yuta on the couch and tried not to feel guilty for stinking up the furniture with the weed smell that was most likely still clinging to his clothes and hair.

Kun tuned back in to the fight just in time to see Ten – in a remarkable show of flexibility – lean down and _bite_ Johnny’s arm, causing Johnny to abruptly release his hold on Ten, which sent both of them tumbling down to the floor at the sudden shift in both of their weight.

“I guess I deserve this, huh?” Johnny asked, a little calmly, splayed out in the middle of the carpet with Ten’s legs beneath him and Ten’s arm wrapped around his neck. Ten was trying to untangle them with an uncomfortably _still_ sense of calm, and glared back at him.

“You already know you do, so why ask?” He hissed out, shoving his body backwards until it met the couch. His back landed against Kun’s calves, and he let his hands rest on Ten’s shoulders, massaging them gently in hopes of helping to diffuse the tension.

“I guess,” Johnny huffed, “I mean yeah. Yeah, I know. But not really ‘cause I _get it_ just … it’s a double edged sword, you and me. Yeah? I know that every time I realize how much I hurt you it hurts me, so I gotta figure you wouldn’t keep trying to hurt me like this unless it’s worth suffering the aftermath yourself,”

Ten’s shoulders tensed and Kun massaged a little more aggressively, “Don’t get deep with me. You ruined our friendship and now we don’t _have one_. I’m not hurting _myself_ to hurt _you_. I’m fucking _done_ with you, and you won’t leave me alone. There’s nothing philosophical about it,”

Johnny gave a single-shouldered shrug, smiling softly at Ten in an oddly tolerant way that completely negated the anger that still lingered in the energy of the room, forcing all of the grumpy aura to radiate off of Ten in solitude, “You’re the one who convinced me that a philosophy major wasn’t a waste of time, remember?”

“You major in broadcast journalism,” Ten deadpanned.

“I already got approved for a master’s program in philosophy, though! Not my fault SMU only offers bachelor’s degrees in the entertainment industry,” Johnny was positively _beaming_ now, and Ten’s body language was only getting more and more abrasive. Kun didn’t think his massage was helping. He tried running his fingers through his hair instead, admiring the softness of it and letting out a relieved breath when Ten relaxed back into his palms.

“You don’t _have_ to go here, you know. I’m sure your fan club will miss you but it’s not actually mandatory that you plague the rest of us with your continued presence.” Ten’s words aren’t nearly as _mean_ as they can get when he talks _about_ Johnny, but his tone is so cold that it wipes the smile from Johnny’s face.

Kun isn’t really nervous until Johnny stands up, towering above both of them and shouting with frustration. Ten is staring back at him – unafraid and _unimpressed_ as if Johnny is nothing more than a child having a tantrum, but he … flinches, (Just slightly. Not enough that Kun would have even noticed if he wasn’t _touching_ him) with every word.

“Stop acting like you don’t _fucking_ get it!” Johnny was hollering, “This University? This – This fucking _fraternity_? All of it! It’s _your_ dream, Tennie! Not mine! _You’ve_ been saying you were gonna go to SMU for dance and pledge TNP _just like Taemin_ since we were in fucking middle school! And I can’t _dance_ as well as you, and I can’t _sing_ as well as Kun _,_ and I can’t even – fucking – do _anything_ as well as Taeyong, but you all wanted to go _here_ and be in _Tau Nu fucking Pi_ ; and I damn sure wasn’t about to _lose my best fucking friend_ over deciding not to go to _his_ stupid dream school and join _his_ stupid dream frat! And for what?!”

Johnny started pacing.

“So you can treat me like the damn-fucking _devil_ every time I see you?! I didn’t get the memo that we were gonna be _art hoes_ instead of frat boys. No one ever _told me_ when all of the things you _said_ you wanted stopped being important to you!” When Johnny stops yelling he collapses back into Mark’s mother’s sitting chair and Ten is wound so tight that Kun’s hands stop moving for fear of breaking him somehow.

“I didn’t decide not to pledge because Tau Nu Pi stopped being important to me,” Ten whispered, low enough that Kun wouldn’t even have thought Johnny could _hear him_ if the elder man wasn’t so clearly focused, intense eyes staring right at Ten’s face, “I decided not to pledge because Tau Nu Pi wasn’t what was _most_ important to me, and somehow … I guess I was deluded enough to think it wasn’t what was most important to _you_ , either.”

There’s something like a low desperation brewing in Ten’s voice and Kun can tell that Johnny … _hears it_ , but he doesn’t understand it. Which, frankly, has been the problem from the beginning of this entire mess. Johnny was perfectly capable of understanding that he was disappointing Ten – even that he was _hurting_ Ten, but he was too dumb and blind to see _how_.

Lucas, who Kun had forgotten was even in the room, gasped so suddenly that Kun could only assume the message of what Ten _refused to say_ was clear to him from beneath what Ten said. Lucas was, after all, in a most strangely similar situation. He just didn’t give nearly as much of a fuck about it as Ten had during _his_ freshman year at SMU.

Lucas, after all, had never _wanted_ to be in a fraternity. Had never had to _choose_ between Mark and TNP.

Ten stood up rather suddenly and Kun startled, accidentally scratching his scalp.

“I’m not the one who keeps acting like they don’t _get it_ , Johnny. _You_ are – and you have been since high school. And you know what? I can almost forgive you for _ignoring_ my emotions, but that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to go and _play with them_ , too – like I was just … just one of those _things_ at your stupid fucking parties--”

“People aren’t _things_ , Tennie.” Johnny interrupted.

Ten’s responding sneer of: “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk!” was only to be expected.

Yuta wasn’t someone who Kun was often able to understand with a single moment of eye contact, but today is an exception to that rule. Their eyes meet and there is a mutual sense of knowing that this whole … _thing_ between Ten and Johnny – is somehow, in this moment, both ending and beginning.

Lucas is fuming in the corner, standing protectively in front of Mark’s family’s trophy case with his fists clenched, but he doesn’t get it. Not really. He can pick up as much as he understands from what’s being spoken in front of him but he wasn’t _there_. Doesn’t know what actually _happened_ , and Ten seems to want to keep it that way.

Part of Kun suspects that Ten never tells anyone what Johnny did to him anymore because Taeyong’s reaction had been so worryingly apathetic that he feared no one else would _care_ – but whether it was for that reason or another suitably more complicated one, it just … still wasn’t really Kun’s secret to tell.

But this? This was the end of the _silence_. This conversation, or argument, or whatever this _was_ between Ten and Johnny was the closest they’d ever gotten to talking about what happened in three whole _years_. Likewise, it wasn’t exactly like the discussion was going _well_. It was going to take a lot more work than just one screaming match to get this resolved but at least the subject was being _mentioned_.

The end. And the beginning. Wrapped up in one fuming ball of hurt feelings that was now barreling feet first out of the front door as Ten slammed it on his way out of the house.

Johnny managed to look both frustrated and vacant simultaneously.

Well, fuck him. Kun had already clearly chosen a side here so it shouldn’t have been any surprise to anyone when he followed Ten right out of the door.

He catches up to him right as Ten is opening up the passenger side door to his car, and he can smell the weed before he even comes around to the drivers’ side and gets in.

“… You gonna cry?” Kun asks, quite seriously, after sixty seconds of dead silence. He finds himself bursting into laughter when Ten’s response is to punch him squarely in the arm, doing absolutely no damage to his bicep at all. Possibly _negative_ damage. More like a shiatzu massage than a physical blow.

“How _dare_ you imply that I would _cry_ over that … over that fucking _stewed prune!”_

Ah. So it was a start-quoting-Shakespeare kind of anger. Sober, too. Kun rolled his eyes.

“Almost as crazy as anyone trying to imply that you learn how to actually throw a punch,” He muttered, snorting when he received yet another baby fist railing at his arm. It hit the exact same spot and _still_ didn’t hurt – which said something.

“I don’t _have_ to know how to throw a good punch,” Ten scoffed, crossing his arms while Kun turned the key in the ignition and started warming the car up, “I only ever hit people who I know love me a lot, ‘cause they’d never hit me back anyway.”

“Bold of you to assume I like you at all,” Kun joked, smiling when Ten’s response was to lean over and kiss his cheek – silent reassurance that he was well aware of Kun’s love for him. Felt it especially now, as Kun pulled out of the Lee’s driveway knowing they wouldn’t be coming back here tonight.

Mark could bring them their stuff later. There wasn’t much time left in their break anyway, and Kun didn’t see Ten going into that house again until Johnny was out of it.

“Mall?” Ten asks, a little apprehensively.

Kun is somewhat notoriously known for his dislike of traveling deeper into the city proper multiple times a day. The New Year’s Eve party that he was pretty sure they _had_ to go to later (according to Ten’s parents who were, technically, supporting both of them almost entirely) was being held at Chenle’s hotel, which was right at the heart of the ritzy downtown shopping district – as was Ten’s favorite mall.

“We can go to whatever mall you want, Kunnie. It’s your birthday, after all… Oh shit, Happy Birthday!”

Ten all but _leaps_ over the gear shift to throw his arms around him and Kun is thankful that he still hasn’t reached a busy street yet, because he’s not entirely sure it would have made a difference to his suddenly manic passenger.

“Okay, okay – quick stop at the mall so I don’t have to wear pajamas all day. Nothing major, nothing Gucci. Maybe just like a nice, classy, little Calvin Klein moment,” Ten is talking too fast for Kun to interrupt him, although he’d really like to seize the opportunity to call him out on his complete lack of  understanding for the amount of money that an ordinary person spends on one single outfit, “ _Then_ , we do literally whatever the fuck you want to do until the party tonight. Literally anything. We can go _bowling_ if you want.”

It feels like an intimate Easter Egg to know that Ten hates bowling with a passion, and Kun smiles. They’ve been friends … for a long time. He agrees and sets the car in gear to get them to the _closest_ mall, which has a Macys. Which will have to do for whatever _classy little moment_ Ten wants his wardrobe to have.

This ends up being a loosely hanging Hugo Boss button down in sheer forest green, which Ten buttons up only the bottom four buttons of and then tucks into a pair of light wash Levi jeans,  a size too small in the ass and an inch too long in the leg. He cuffs them, shoves his Polo-socked feet into a fresh pair of Versace camel leather boots, and Kun wonders how the hell they’re spending over a month of rent’s worth on one outfit at fucking Macys.

Calvin Klein’s nice, classy, little _moment_ arrives in the form of a simple pair of slacks and sweater for Kun, which Ten picks up in his size without consulting him at all and checks out for him at the register. It’s something Kun’s grown accustomed to so he grabs the bag when it’s handed to him and follows Ten to the bathroom so he can get changed.

“Wait … we need underwear,” Ten points out from his own stall, presumably nude. He throws his credit card haphazardly over the door and Kun rightfully assumes that he’s being asked to go and pick some up for him, since he’s still dressed.

Well, it was his birthday. He was entitled to a little mischief.

When he returns to the bathroom, passes the bag to Ten, he can _hear_ his silence.

“This is a Victoria’s Secret bag.”

“Yes, it is.” Kun answers, hoisting himself up on the counter, “C’mon no one’s gonna see ‘em but us. Indulge me a little on my birthday, yeah?”

He assumes Ten is going to say no, get dressed in the clothes he’d had on, and then storm out to go find himself some men’s briefs. What happens instead, is that Ten silently finishes getting dressed and then steps out of the stall, gesturing for Kun to go in and take his turn changing.

“Wait – you’re really wearing them?” Kun asks, openly incredulous.

Ten raises a daring brow, unbuckles his belt, and tugs down the waistline of his jeans to give Kun a clear view of the deep indigo blue beneath, “If you want to be a dirty old man for your birthday and dress me up in pretty panties, then I’m down. But jokes on you, sicko – I’m  not gonna take them off for you,”

Kun pretends to gag at the thought, laughing when he shuts the stall door before the now empty Victoria’s Secret bag that Ten throws at him can successfully meet its target.

He changes his clothes and leads Ten out of the mall before he gets too swipe happy. Kun does _not_ want to spend his birthday shopping.

He discovers three hours later when yet another of his favorite restaurants is closed upon their arrival that apparently nothing he _does_ want to do on his birthday is even open. Which is just unfair, really. It’s New Year’s _Eve_ , not New Year’s day. Why was everything in this damn town shut down?

They end up at the only open movie theater, which was more or less a ten minute drive away from the hotel they have to be at for the party later. They sit together and talk through two different Christmas movies that hadn’t left theaters yet, and Ten doesn’t complain when Kun eats literally all of the popcorn, or swat his hand away when Kun sips at his drink.

Today is trying to make some kind of comeback, he thinks, after such a shitty morning. Jungwoo calls back to make sure they’re alright after Kun’s abrupt departure from their FaceTime chat earlier in the morning, wishes Kun a Happy Birthday seventeen more times, and then gets beckoned into his grandmother’s kitchen to help her wash out the rice cooker.

Kun and Ten both don’t miss the sound of what is _distinctly_ Doyoung’s voice offering to be of assistance before the call gets dropped but neither of them comment on it, agreeing silently that whatever is going on between those two is probably for the best but is definitely none of their business.

They stick around for a third movie, this one a horror, and cling to each other all the way through. Kun wondering why on earth they thought it was a good idea to see this and Ten wondering whether the antagonist’s deformities were the work of special effects or just really good make up.

They end up back in the car again, and Ten finally breaks down about how pissed off he is about his argument with Johnny that morning. Kun cosigns where it’s necessary, holds his friend, and lets him vent until one of them catches sight at the clock and realizes that they have approximately twenty minutes left to make an appearance at this party before midnight.

Neither of them want to go. It’s not going to be a fun night, not going to be their scene – but several of Ten’s parents’ business associates (including Chenle’s parents) are going to be there and apparently it would be impolite (disgraceful, actually) for them to just not show at all.

After making their rounds, the mission becomes finding a secluded area to wait out the end of the party so they head down an empty hallway that Ten says has spare lounge rooms for VIP hotel guests while they wait for their rooms if they arrive early for check in.

They find Sicheng in one (in a rather compromising position) and sprint quickly over to the next before the trauma of catching a friend with their ass spread open can properly sink in. The next door is locked, but the third opens for Ten as soon as he tries the handle.

“What the fuck are _you_ doing in here?” Kun hears Ten ask before he’s even inside of the door. When he steps around him he’s greeted with the sight of Johnny Seo, sprawled over a chaise lounge like some kind of king. The only other furniture in the room is a small ottoman near the window and Kun and Ten both beeline for it – Kun winning by pushing Ten over and feeling absolutely no guilt in doing so.

It’s still his birthday for seven more minutes, after all. Not that it’s been overly acknowledged. It’s literally about to be midnight and Kun has been wished a happy birthday by a total of two human beings. Out of the three he _lived with_. His mother hadn’t even called, but then they had a bit of a time difference so he assumed she just must have thought it would be tricky to reach him.

Still, it stung.

“I’m hiding from Chenle’s parents,” Johnny responded, taking his legs down and patting the spot beside him so Ten could sit. Much to Kun’s surprise – he takes the offer. The chaise isn’t big enough for there to be any real space between the two of them, thighs pressed together, Ten having to lean against Johnny’s side for back support. He doesn’t seem to mind, but it’s been a long day – emotionally and otherwise.

Johnny was once the _definition_ of comfort for Ten. Perhaps, even now, he had some comfort left to offer, even if Ten was reluctant to take it. Or maybe Ten was just too tired to put on a show. Kun wouldn’t admit it to anyone who _asked_ , out of loyalty to his best friend, but the truth was that Ten really didn’t pour all of his energy into hating Johnny _all_ of the time. There were moments – moments Ten would probably call times of _weakness_ , where he remembered their high school years fondly.

Whatever the reason, Ten was pressed against Johnny’s side and didn’t look disgusted to be there. Johnny, for his part, was elated at this development, wrapping an arm around Ten’s slender shoulders and laughing when the dancer shoved it off aggressively.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Why’re you hiding from the Zhong’s?”

Before Johnny can answer, Taeyong comes into the room – completely inappropriately dressed, jeans with more holes than denim, a graphic tee that looked about four sizes too big for him, and a black leather jacket slung over one shoulder. He’s got the tip of a plastic-wrapped needle or syringe of some sort poking out of his too-small pocket and his eyes are bloodshot red and unfocussed.

Kun’s heart aches for him.

“Oh Kunnie,” Taeyong breathes out, beaming at him like a lost puppy that finally found its way home, “Happy Birthday!”

Three. There were _three_ people who remembered it was his birthday.

He mutters out something that sounds almost like a thanks, and Taeyong comes over to the window and gives him a hug. His body’s emaciated, nothing more than skin and bones, and Kun loved him once. _Fuck_ , he loved him still but he was … so far out of his reach now. Had always been just too distant to grasp and drifted only farther and farther away over time.

The memories that the four of them share together shove to the forefront of his mind like bile in his throat, and he thinks he’s going to be sick.

He doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want to be in some tiny little room with Ten and Johnny and Taeyong.

It’s too much like how it used to be.

It’s not enough like how it used to be.

“Mark found Chenle and he’s fine if you wanna come back out here for the countdown to midnight,” Taeyong says, presumably to Johnny, who nods but stays firmly planted exactly where he is.

There was a while when Kun had literally never seen Johnny deliberately walk in any direction that lead him away from Ten. Until, one day, he just … _did_. Then didn’t stop. He didn’t _stop_ walking away and Ten got sick of chasing him.

He catches himself thinking that he’s just about at his limit for being lost down memory lane and decides abruptly to just. Stop. Taeyong sits down at his feet and keeps _looking_ at him though, and he wants to hit him. He wants to scream. He wants to be as far away from him as he can possibly get. He wants to be as close to him as he can possibly get. He hates himself.

It strikes Kun that through systematic temper tantrums and raging furies spread evenly across the last three years, Ten has actually done a much better job at processing what happened than he has.

Well. Ten’s always kind of been better at everything, so that shouldn’t really surprise him as much as it does. He just thinks of himself as so … _composed_. Surely he should be able to control something as simple as _not_ literally combusting with emotion at the sight of Taeyong.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Johnny states, breaking the silence right as Kun can hear the rest of the party counting down for the new year. They start at sixty seconds, which feels a little excessive. Surely ten would have done just fine.

It’s the last sixty seconds of his birthday and he refuses to spend it looking at Taeyong, so he focuses his attention on Ten – who, unlike Taeyong, has literally never done anything horrible to him or anyone he loves for their entire friendship.

Ten had tried to cover Johnny’s mouth with his hand to stop him from apologizing, but his fingers were shaking. Johnny took his hand away from his face and held it, continuing to talk like there weren’t mere seconds left until the new year.

_Forty-five!_

“I _do_ understand, Ten. I’ve been thinking about it all day and I _understand_. I know why you’re hurting, and I just … I just want to fucking fix it before I lose you even more than I already have,” Johnny pleads.

_Thirty!_

“If you didn’t want to lose me, you shouldn’t have _thrown me away_ , you fucking idiot,” There is no bite to Ten’s tone at all. It’s almost _fond_. Almost like he wants to pretend Johnny’s apology is _enough_ after everything. But it’s not. Of course it’s not.

But who was Kun to stop him from pretending that it was, if he needed to?

_Twenty!_

“Let me just … just _try_ to make it up to you at least. Please? I will literally get on my knees and beg if you need me to,” Johnny continues. Ten laughs. Sweetly. Too sweetly. Flirtatiously.

Kun is starting to see where this is going and he’s not particularly in support of it.

_Ten!_

“You have absolutely no idea _how_ to make it up to me, do you?” Ten questions, readjusting to face Johnny head on.

_Five!_

“I think I have a pretty good idea of how to _start_ ,” Johnny answers, and Kun wonders if it’s as obvious to Ten as it is to _him_ what’s about to go down here.

_Two!_

Sometimes, sound can be drowned out by silence. Kun realizes this when the loud, coagulative shriek of _HAPPY NEW YEAR!_ is rendered nothing more than white noise in the face of Johnny taking Ten’s chin in his hand and bringing their lips together.

Seeing Ten and Johnny kiss is a three step process.

Step one: Ten _freezes_.

Stops moving, stops breathing, looks like the life must have been sucked right out of him as soon as Johnny’s mouth touches his. His body goes rigid, shoulders high, eyes wide, fingers clutching into Johnny’s forearms like if he holds on tightly enough this could be a _good thing_.

This is definitely not a good thing.

Step two: Ten _melts_.

His fingers go slack where they were creasing Johnny’s shirt sleeves, his eyes flutter shut, and his shoulders sag. They separate slowly, Ten’s eyes gazing up at Johnny’s with more fondness than Kun has seen him show anyone since they were still young and dumb.

Step three: Ten _punches Johnny in the fucking face_.

Hard.

Not nearly hard enough to hurt because Ten still has absolutely no idea how to throw a punch, but probably enough to hurt Johnny’s _feelings_ if his expression is anything to go by. Kun thinks for a moment that they’re going to just all out brawl. Thinks Johnny is gonna hit Ten back and then he’s gonna have to go over there and kick Johnny’s ass.

Instead, Johnny sets his jaw. Turns around, faces Kun and Taeyong.

“Could we get some privacy, please?”

Kun wants to say no. He can see the way Ten’s face is begging him to say no; but Taeyong gets up, takes his hand, yanks him towards the door and everything is happening too _fast_ and he feels like a shitty friend but Johnny closes and _locks_ the door behind them and there’s just … nothing he can do.

As fucking usual. Everything is going to absolute shit and he doesn’t understand anything. He understands so much more than he wants to. He understands that there’s no way for him to help. No way for him to stop Ten from getting hurt, and no way to stop Ten from hurting Johnny and no way to stop caring when it hurts _him_ to see them like this.

Taeyong is trying to hand him something, and he holds his hand out a little stupidly.

It’s two pills, no bigger than a household Tylenol. They have ‘OP’ printed on them, and Kun realizes with a startled blink that this is …

“Fucking oxycodone, Tae?!” Kun shouts, drawing the attention of a pretty dolled up couple a little further down the hall, closer to the main ballroom of the party. He lowers his voice to avoid causing a scene, “What the hell are you giving me this for?”

Taeyong bites his lip, halfway curls in on himself, “You looked upset, I was just trying to help you … I dunno … cheer up, I guess?”

Kun seethed, “God, you are such a _fucking_ junkie!” He shoves the pills back into Taeyong’s hand and brings his hand up to his own face, wiping at tears that he didn’t know were spilling from his eyes until they started tickling at his cheeks, “What _happened_ to you?”

He says it so quietly that he doesn’t think Taeyong even hears him, but then Taeyong slides down the wall, sits with his chin tucked into his knees, and he looks so _small_. So, so small. Like the entire world is just too big a place for him to safely exist. Kun wanted to protect him forever. _Would_ have protected him forever, but that wasn’t something he was allowed to do.

It was just like Ten said. Johnny and Taeyong had _thrown them away_.

“I don’t know how to be a good friend to you and be myself at the same time,” Taeyong whispers into his knees and Kun feels his breath hitch.

“You could start by _being_ yourself instead of whoever the fuck I’m looking at right now,” He hisses out, still reeling at the fact that Taeyong had tried to give him _narcotics_ as if that would help him with any of his fucking problems, “Maybe if you would sober up long enough to remember what feelings _are_ you wouldn’t shit all over mine every single time I see you,”

“Y’think I don’t _feel_ anything?” Taeyong asked him, a little hollowly, “I feel … _everything_ ,” His eyes go so wide and so watery that Kun worries for a moment that they’re going to _both_ be crying, which would just make all of the badness of this day even worse than it already was.

Fortunately or unfortunately, their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Taeyong’s girlfriend, who approaches him with soft, empathetic eyes. Holds him to her chest and shushes him when he tries to pull out of her embrace.

Kun. Is not emotionally prepared for existence today.

He decides to go and wait for Ten in the car, where he can smoke in peace – his one and _only_ drug of choice. Fucking oxycodone. Taeyong must have lost his ever loving mind. Shit, who was Kun kidding? Taeyong had lost his mind ages ago.

He ends up having just enough weed left to make him thoroughly groggy and decides that sleeping in his car can’t possibly be the most uncomfortable part of the last twenty four hours, so without allowing himself another thought about anything at all, he reclines his seat all the way back, and with a quiet, _private_ whisper to himself of ‘Happy Birthday, Kunnie,’ he lets his consciousness fade away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a HUGE thanks to everyone who read this! Thanks for sticking by my side with this fanfic, I know it's starting to get a little crazy but hopefully you're enjoying the ride! All my love to you <3


	10. True Love's Third Kiss: Johnny POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so much for waiting on this chapter. It's taken a LOT out of me to write (i've literally done it over 36 times. no exaggeration) and I'm still not as happy with it as I want it to be but it's ready for your consumption at long last, so please enjoy!
> 
> thank you to [@taylorebonii](https://twitter.com/taylorebonii) for the beta and the support!!

Johnny had first known that he loved Ten when he was thirteen years old and Ten was eleven. It was right between their birthdays, and for just that brief few days of time (no more than a couple of weeks) – Johnny had felt so … _old_. He’d been out with his friend Sehun at the new arcade that had opened up in town and invited Ten along only to discover that he wasn’t allowed in. He was too young. The arcade only allowed children ages thirteen and up, and Ten – too honest for his own good – had told the stuck up sixteen year old watching the door that he was eleven years old and had not been allowed in.

Johnny hadn’t wanted to go inside without Ten, but the younger boy had urged him to do so, all but pushing him in the door, huge, _beaming_ smile on his face. Johnny had stayed in there for hours, surely. Sehun showed him his favorite selection of 1v1’s and beat him at air hockey three times out of five.

When they’d come back outside, Ten was still there. Still smiling, running up to Johnny and looping their arms together excitedly.

“Did you have a good time?” He’d asked, and although Johnny _had_ enjoyed himself it felt … stupid. Empty. Because how could he honestly look back on that time fondly knowing that Ten had been left outside to brave the cool February air alone?

“Next time we’ll go to the old arcade downtown, Tennie,” He’d promised, much to Sehun’s contempt, “That way you can come play, too.”

Ten had been _elated_ , wide eyes sparkling with appreciation as he swung their hands together, chattering on and on about the pretty shards of glass he’d found scattered around the curb, how he was going to make a mosaic of them all when he got home. Sehun reminded them that the arcade’s lot had been a liquor store before it was closed and remodeled – that Ten’s pretty art piece would be made of nothing more than the stumbling mistakes of old drunkards.

“It’ll have _personality_ ,” Ten insists, pouting just slightly at Sehun’s dismissal of his art piece. Johnny feels something sour twist in the pit of his stomach seeing Ten’s mood drop so rapidly, and quickly dismisses Sehun in favor of Ten, claiming that he’d just remembered he told Ten’s parents that he’d walk him to his sister’s job. Ten seemed confused by this, but waved goodbye to Sehun when they split at the fork of the next road and skipped along with Johnny, their fingers intertwined, Ten’s hands soft and small in Johnny’s hold.

When Sehun was a suitable distance away, Johnny stopped walking, sat down on the curb. Ten, of course, plopped right down beside him, no questions asked. Leaned against his shoulder, hugging against his arm, told him about his mosaic. How he’d focus the blue glass around the center, then the green and clear, and the brown along the edges.

Johnny listened, closed his eyes, took in the steady chirping up and down of Ten’s sweet voice when he was happy like this. Wanted him to be happy _forever_. To be beside him _forever_. To be always telling him about things he loved and thought were beautiful.

“I love you, Tennie,” Johnny had blurted out – abruptly, without really understanding what it meant, without knowing that it would claw at his chest and tear at his lungs for the rest of his life. Ten had laughed, kissed his cheek, said he loved him too like it was nothing – like it was effortless, and moved on.

“When we grow up, and we go to SMU,” Ten continued, already deeply in love with the university that had come to visit their middle school a week prior, “I’m gonna hang up my glass mosaic in your window, and you’ll have to make something for me too, okay? In case we’re not allowed to share a room, so we can always feel close to each other before we go to bed. Oh! You can make me a dreamcatcher!”

Johnny still wondered, sometimes, years and years later – if maybe the reason he always, _always_ had nightmares was because he’d never made Ten that dreamcatcher. Or maybe it was the hundred, thousand, _infinite_ other ways he’d always neglected to do the things Ten had so desperately needed him to do.

Or maybe it was none of that at all. Maybe it was because he always felt his love for Ten the most vividly, the most _terribly_ , on days like that one – when he left him waiting out in the cold for too long.

When Johnny turns back from where he’s locked the door, forcing Ten into solitude, prying him away from the safe hold of Kun’s presence, it becomes abundantly clear to Johnny that he loves him. Loved him always and loves him still. It becomes abundantly clear to Johnny that he’s left him waiting out in the cold for too long.

“You’ve always known more about Tau Nu Pi than anyone else I’ve ever met, even now,” Johnny muses, leaning back against the door and gazing over at Ten, whose body language is strangely relaxed, legs crossed, eyes daring him to continue like no matter what he says it won’t make a difference. Johnny fears that it _won’t_ , but he knows he has to say it anyway, “The initiation process, right down to the detail – you warned me in, what? _Tenth grade_ , what we’d be in for if one of us got picked as a summer pledge?”

Ten sighs, turns towards the window, but Johnny can tell he’s still listening. Can always tell. He can read Ten like a book – but it’s a book he’s too familiar with, a book he’s read a thousand times over. He’s developed a habit of skimming the paragraphs he’s bored of. Never noticed when they were being subtly rewritten.

“You were right, of course. You always were right. You knew the secret handshake, the secret rituals – you even knew the recipe for the damn jungle juice, remember?”

Ten readjusts to face him, face stony, already knows where this is going – knew where this was going as soon as Johnny got started because when Ten reads _his_ favorite book, he doesn’t skip a single word no matter how many times it stays the same. He loves the sameness of it. Finds comfort in every single unchanged letter.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Ten suggests, but it’s futile and he knows it is – because Johnny is in too deep. Way, way, too deep, but if he doesn’t keep swimming out against the current then Ten will drown here, alone and unattended in the ocean of his own emotions.

“You knew about the dating ban,” Johnny says, matter-of-factly, because even though he and Ten had never discussed Tau Nu Pi’s dating ban (had never had any _reason_ to) there is no way that there’s a single thing about Tau Nu Pi that Johnny knows and Ten doesn’t, despite his own Alpha status in his chapter and Ten’s complete lack of participation in Fraternity activities.

“You knew about the dating ban, and you knew that if you pledged, we couldn’t be together and you thought I was smart enough to understand why you wouldn’t pledge but I wasn’t, and I’m sorry.”

Ten shrugs, leans back against his own palms like it’s nothing. Like it’s old news. A fire long burnt out to ash. Johnny’s skin still tingles at the touch of every lingering ember, and it’s impossible for him to understand how Ten isn’t even feeling the warmth of the hearth anymore.

“You know, you only called me once, one _single_ time in your entire college career; until you started having dreams that I was dead,” Ten states, and it sounds like a lie. Can’t _possibly_ be the truth when Johnny knows that he thinks of Ten every single day, always wonders what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, if he’s alright, if he’s _happy_.

But he has to believe Ten, because he can tell from the hurt in his eyes, however vacant they may be, that it’s the truth. It’s _Ten’s_ truth, and if he’s in pain, then it doesn’t really matter what Johnny’s truth is.

“You called me _once_ and it was to tell me that we couldn’t live together,” Ten continues, looking down at his hands, pushing down the cuticles of his fingers with his thumb nails, “You should have called to tell me we couldn’t _be_ together. I’d probably have pledged,”

It was a lie, of course. Ten wouldn’t have pledged if Johnny had done that and they both knew it. Because that would have _broken_ him, and Ten wouldn’t have been able to live with Johnny after letting Johnny tear him to pieces. The current state of their relationship was a testament to that – because Johnny _had_ broken him, he just hadn’t known it. Had _refused_ to know it even when it stared him right in the face.

“I was stupid, and an asshole,” Johnny admitted, “Fuck that, I _am_ stupid and an asshole. But I was also in love with you, and I’m _still_ in love with you. I’ve _always_ been in love with—”

“What, you think I don’t know that?” Ten asked, rolling his eyes and scoffing, “I’m your _best-best friend_ , remember? You think I can’t tell that you’re in love with me? You think – what? – you think it _matters_ what you _feel_ when you still treated me like a stranger for years?”

Johnny doesn’t know how to reply to that. Because of course he thinks it should matter. It would matter to _him_ if their positions were reversed. He’s thought of a billion, _billion_ ways to tell Ten he loves him. To show Ten he loves him. He’s thought of whispering it into every pour of his skin, kissing it into his lips, singing it into his ears, writing him a hundred sonnets, a thousand songs, painting him a picture. Every possible gesture to show his affection has been considered … and set aside.

Because Johnny was afraid. He was afraid to _shatter_ Ten, to have to pick him up the way he’d once swept up all of the shattered glass from his attic bedroom window on November the first, exactly three years ago. He was equally terrified of shattering Ten and cutting his own hands trying to put him back together, and he didn’t think he was wrong for that. Or, he _hadn’t_ thought he was wrong for that until now. All of it seems so stupid now.

It should have been obvious that Ten, a creature made of cool waters and soft breeze could withstand the flames of Johnny’s passion for him without burning up. He had feared blistering his skin and in the process, failed to keep him warm. His neglect, he knew, was unforgivable – but there was nothing he could do but beg for forgiveness.

“I’d give you anything in this world, Tennie,” Johnny sighs out, finally crossing the gap between them and coming to sit beside Ten on the chaise again, “ _Anything_. But I don’t know what you want from me,”

Ten shrugs a single shoulder, gets up from the chaise and sits on the floor. Groans audibly when Johnny moves to the floor to sit next to him.

“I just want you to leave me alone, now. Let me heal. Let me get _over_ you. I want you to stop recruiting my friends to your frat because you have some deluded thought that just because _I_ trust someone they’re inherently trustworthy. I want you to stop letting teenagers who you know _I’m_ supposed to be looking out for into your parties on the faintest hope that I’ll come by looking for them. Most of all? I want you to stop _calling me in the middle of the night every fucking week_ , like it’s _my responsibility_ that you’re having dreams about me being dead when you spend the majority of your waking time in an unwavering effort to emotionally _kill me_ —”

“Tennie—”

“If you’re not going to love me _properly_ then just … don’t fucking _bother_ anymore, okay?”

Ten is asking him to let go, and it’s the only thing in the universe that he wouldn’t do for him. He feels tears stinging at his eyes, and he swallows down. Hard. Because of course Ten understands everything – knows him well enough to understand everything. Never thought for a moment that it’s a coincidence how many former residents of N-U end up pledging Tau Nu Pi. Never thought for a moment that the child who Johnny allowed to frequent frat parties could ever have been anyone _but_ Chenle Zhong – who Johnny had first met at Ten’s parents’ house when the kid was _five years old_.

He’d gone _with_ Ten enough times when they were in high school to get Chenle out of some shit he had no business being involved in. Of course he’d thought that maybe (just _maybe_ ) Ten might stop by if it was a heroic effort to preserve Chenle’s innocence.

The nightmares … How could Johnny _not_ call? How could he not _need_ to hear Ten’s breath on the other end of the line when he was so afraid – so, so fucking _afraid_ of losing him. It was torture, falling asleep. He hated it, and he avoided it – swallowed down pills that kept him awake for days and days at a time, _all_ of the time.

But he couldn’t stop the crash. Couldn’t stop the twenty to thirty _hours_ of Ten’s dead, empty eyes staring at him, mouth open, blood dripping from between those perfect, _pretty_ lips. Ten always died differently. There were an infinite amount of scenarios in Johnny’s subconscious mind that lead to his demise but there was one thing that was always, always the same –

Johnny always could have saved him if he wasn’t too late. Always had to witness his last breath. Always spent the first half of the dream searching for him, _frantically_. Never, ever found him in time.

And it was happening all over again, but he was awake this time, and Ten was right in front of him, and still, somehow, it felt like he was too late.

“Just … Just take it out on me,” Johnny pleads, scooting closer to Ten, their knees touching. He reaches for Ten’s hands and somehow isn’t surprised when he doesn’t stop him from holding them, “If it’s causing you that much pain, just take it out on me – like how you dug your nails into my hand when you got your ears pierced. Remember?”

Ten nods, biting into his lip. He remembers. He remembers at least that much of their history. Shit, it’s Ten, he remembers it _all_. He’s one of those people, after all. One of those people who lives life in details, in small moments of sweetness and miniscule fractions of memory, blown too big and too wide in retrospect when compared to the sheer _lack_ of importance they’d seemed to hold at that time. If Ten handed him a rose, to Johnny, it would always be a rose, but to Ten – it was his heart on a thorny stem.

But Ten had handed Johnny hundreds of things in this lifetime, and Johnny wasn’t good at decoding which of them were more than objects to be fondled and thrown away. He didn’t _know_ when Ten’s heart had been put into his care, only that he’d done a terrible job of caring for it.

“I know that I’ve torn you into pieces,” Johnny whispers, careful, treading on eggshells. He can see Ten’s eyes cast down the way that they get when he’s trying to keep from crying. He can see from the way Ten’s biting at his lip that it’s a wasted effort, the tears are going to come and there’s nothing Johnny can do to stop them, “I know that I … that I hurt you more than I understand,”

Ten nods, sniffles, a tear drops from his eye to his cheek and Johnny reaches forward and wipes it away without even thinking about it – because of course he would. It’s an instinct, a reflex, and it only makes the tears come faster.

“If you think it’ll help me understand … if you think --,” He pauses, takes a deep breath because he knows Ten well enough to know that he’ll take the bait if he’s offered it, but Johnny _loves_ him enough to give him anything. Anything but an end to this when it never got to fucking begin, “If you think it’ll help you sew yourself back together … then you can hurt me too, if you want.”

Ten seems to think about it for a long time. He cries more, doesn’t fight Johnny off or curse or scratch at him when he pulls Ten into his lap, holds him until the tears wane down.

“You want to understand what I’m feeling?” Ten asks, and his voice is so _small_ , so _little_. Bark much, much, less painful than his bite.

“I want to understand what you’re feeling,” Johnny confirms, “Even if it hurts, I want to – I _need_ to understand. I won’t know how to fix it if I don’t know what it is, and I’ve _gotta_ fix it, Tennie I can’t … I can’t keep posturing for you when all it ever gets me is a tongue lashing and a cold shoulder,”

“Kiss me again,” Ten requests, and Johnny’s first instinct is to do exactly as he says, but he’s confused.

“Why?” He asks, and Ten starts pulling away, only for Johnny to tug him more securely against his own body, “I’ll do it, but why?”

Ten shrugs, “Third time’s the charm, right?”

There’s a stupid, _blind_ moment when Johnny wants to say that it’s not the third time.

And then he remembers that it _is_.

Of course it is. The first time he’d kissed Ten wasn’t twenty minutes ago, as one year shifted into the next. It was … fuck, it was _years_ ago. They’d both been so _drunk_ —

“Are you gonna do it?”

_He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star._

_Then he kissed her. At his lips’ touch, she blossomed for him like a flower, and the incarnation was complete._

Johnny kissed Ten, knowing it was a trap built to ensnare him in the same, identical heartache that he had trapped Ten in so many years ago, and not caring. Wanting it to hurt, to bleed, to cut out the rottenness inside of him no matter what else came pouring out along with it, even if it didn’t leave him whole. As long as it didn’t leave him in solitude.

Ten kissed him back, and it was heaven.

Johnny had spent much of his life both kissing and being kissed, but he realized instantly that he had not spent nearly enough of his life kissing Ten. There was a sweetness to him unlike anything Johnny had ever tasted before. A timelessness. Ten straddles his waist and kisses more deeply, thin arms wrapping around the back of Johnny’s neck and when he exhales against Johnny’s lips it feels like all the weight in the world is falling easily off of his shoulders.

He stops, for a moment, just to breathe in Ten’s air. To exist in his space. Then Ten’s lips slant against his again and it’s _different_. It’s … it’s _more_. It’s more than he’s ever wanted to take from Ten. It’s more than Ten’s ever been willing to _give_ him. Well … except for when—

“Take your clothes off, Seo.”

Johnny freezes up for a moment, confused and disoriented that Ten has stopped kissing him, and then even more thrown off by what Ten just _said_ to him.

He’d thought they were just going to be kissing, but everything is becoming starkly clear and he feels a burning in his chest as he sighs, complying and removing his shirt, eyeing Ten as he does the same.

Ten has cute nipples. He’s always had cute nipples and in the seemingly perpetually cool air of the hotel, they’re pert and small against his chest. Johnny stares, and smiles.

“Not hiding your tits anymore, I see,” He drawls out, running his hand down his own abdomen to try and shake some of his inexplicable nervousness and then working open the button of his jeans.

“They’re good tits,” Ten answers, half-smile more confident than Johnny had thought it would be. None of this seems foreign to Ten, all oddly familiar in a way that makes the hair on Johnny’s neck rise and his blood pump hot.

He doesn’t care for the idea of Ten taking his clothes off for other people, he realizes, and then feels immediately guilty. He’s certainly had his fair share of other people. Dozens. More than dozens, he thinks.

Maybe a dozen in a good week, if he’s being completely honest.

“Eat my ass,” Ten idly suggested, and Johnny blinked, seeing his friend nude, back arched, leaning over the taller part of the chaise chair.

“Why?” He asks, a little shocked, and from where Ten is looking at him over his shoulder he can see the dancer rolling his eyes.

“Because neither of us are hard, which makes foreplay kind of a good idea?” Ten mocked back, and Johnny nudged his jeans down his thighs, frowning.

“Tennie … what are we doing?”

Obviously Johnny knows what they’re doing. He’s not stupid. He just doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. Unless it’s coming from where he _thinks_ it’s coming from. It’s not that he doesn’t want Ten … fuck knows he does, he’s wanted Ten for about as long as he can remember wanting anyone. Something about it just feels off, somehow. Strange. Like a creeping and unsettling sense of Déjà vu.

“I wanna have sex with you, fat ass,” Ten answers, arching his back more, “You gonna get over here or not?”

Johnny was definitely gonna get over there. Touching Ten was … not necessarily _odd,_ in fact it was almost hauntingly familiar, but it still held a sense of peculiarity. All at once, it was everything they should always have done, should always have been doing – and something that was quite clearly crossing a boundary that, if Johnny was being honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure they were ready to be crossing together.

It’s not the act itself, it’s the timing. It’s too perfect, that Ten would dangle something too sweet, too _craved_ by Johnny for him to resist after a morning of fighting, an evening of more subtle hostility, and then a flat refusal to outright forgive Johnny for allowing their friendship to fizzle out of existence.

But he was greedy, had always been greedy, had always taken everything from Ten that he could get and this was certainly not going to be the one exception to that iron clad rule.

He approaches, runs his hand down Ten’s spine and watches him shiver, roll his shoulders. His skin is golden, shimmering and smooth. He felt … expensive, like the arm and a leg that Johnny was sure he spent on his skin care was being put well to use. But he also felt … _boy_. Toned muscles and subtle strength, little nicks and scars over his limbs where he’d scraped his knees or elbows playing as a child. Johnny had played _with_ him, back then. Had probably been the one drying Ten’s tears for each and every fall.

He leans over him, for just a moment. His naked chest against Ten’s naked back, and just _breathes_. Feels the way their bodies move together in _life_. In stillness. In simplicity. It’s something of a guilty pleasure, he supposes, to steal a moment of intimacy in what he knows Ten has intended as a hard and fast fuck, but he can feel Ten relaxing against him, melting into him, and he runs his nose over Ten’s neck, inhaling the clean and soapy _scent_ of him.

Ten sniffles. A little too wetly for Johnny’s comfort.

“I hate you,” Ten whispers, voice cracking – a confirmation that as Johnny suspected, he’s crying again, “I hate you so fucking much,” Ten continues, “I’m _in_ hate with you.”

Johnny’s hand trails over Ten’s sides, the little ridges of his ribs sending tingles over his fingertips.

“You don’t mean that, do you?” He asks, backing up enough to lay kisses over Ten’s shoulder blades, trail lower slowly. He wants to savor the taste of him. Fears he’ll never get to taste him again if he fucks this up.

“Of course not,” Ten answers, clearing his throat and lifting a hand to wipe away the tears on his face, “Don’t be stupid. I … I wouldn’t be letting you do this if I meant it.”

Johnny’s mouth is sucking a bruise into Ten’s waistline, and Johnny’s mind is enjoying doing so. Too much to pay Ten’s words the attention they deserve, but even so they seem to trigger a feint spark all the way at the edges of Johnny’s memory. Something he’d _always_ remember. Something he’d almost forgotten.

When his mouth finally reaches Ten’s hole, he is reminded of the thousand and one times he’s iterated and reiterated to other friends and lovers that he absolutely does _not_ perform oral sex. It’s a passing thought. Amusing, almost, for a second – before he presses his tongue against Ten’s rim.

The taste is remarkably inoffensive. Clean, like the rest of Ten’s skin, and as he tongues deeper into his hole and feels the vibration of Ten’s moan around his tongue, he wonders why this isn’t something he does more often.

Oral sex is one of the few avenues of life where enthusiasm can make up for experience. Johnny had learned this on the receiving end and aimed to employ it with _giving_ , one hand coming around to stroke Ten’s cock, the other holding his cheeks apart so he could operate with as little interruption as possible.

Everything is very slick. Drool running down his chin and spreading over Ten’s ass, precum starting to ease the slide of his hand down Ten’s shaft as he finally feels that Ten is getting hard, which inspires Johnny’s own erection with something of a domino effect, growing harder with each hitch of Ten’s pretty breath.

“L-Lube?” Ten stutters out, and when he turns back to catch Johnny’s eye his face is flushed, eyes puffy from crying and cheeks blushing furiously.

He’s so beautiful Johnny wanted to paint him in a thousand, billion colors.

“Hm. Probably, yeah,” He stands to go to his messenger bag, left forgotten and unnecessary in some corner of the room where he’d first stashed it so as not to be caught with anything he wasn’t supposed to have at this party. He finds the bag tucked away behind the single potted plant that could survive on low sunlight. He finds the lube tucked away in the only pocket large enough shut and zip while containing it.

He doesn’t ask Ten what to do next because _this part_ , at least, he’s familiar with. Drizzling the sticky fluid over Ten’s hole and using his middle finger to push it inside. Ten’s eyes bulge, then flutter shut, and he whines heavy and slow, something guttural in his chest that Johnny wants to climb inside of and fuck into.

He wants to fuck _all_ of him. Wants to live inside of Ten’s body like a virus, like a plague, wants to scratch and tear at him beneath the skin the way that Ten has been living in _his_ blood vessels for years. Restless. Hot and twisted and always, always there.

Instead, he finds himself being almost unerringly gentle. He stretches Ten open with care, with _love_. Watches the way he slowly dilates for him, presses his index finger in as well, knuckle deep, and finds himself smiling when Ten pushes back against him for more pressure.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” Johnny teases, finding the other man’s body to be almost _absurdly_ welcoming, pliable and _easy_ in a way that he’s never experienced during anal with a woman before.

“Not all of us are still in the clos- _oh fuck!_ ” Ten slumps against the chase, hiccupping out a strained sound as Johnny prods his fingertips against his prostate, fascinated with the way Ten’s voice pitches higher and higher as the sensation builds inside of him.

“What was that, Tennie? Something about me still being in the closet?”

Ten grunts wordlessly, rediscovering his sassiness moments later with a curt announcement that if Johnny wasn’t so busy pretending to be straight and aloof, he’d have his cock inside of him already by now.

He couldn’t really argue with that.

But he was adamant that they make just a _slight_ adjustment.

“I wanna see your face while we do it,” Johnny requested, pulling his hands away (and out of) Ten and leaning back against the carpet.

“While we _do it_?” Ten mocked back at him, “What are you? _Eight_?”

“What are _you_? _Ten_?”

There’s a pause of silence during which the joke hovers shamefully in the air and then Ten crawls over to Johnny and plucks him unforgivingly, right in the center of his forehead.

“You are _not_ allowed to make shitty puns while I have an erection.” His words are meant to be stern but Johnny can tell he’s trying not to laugh, sees the shadow of a smile playing at the edges of his pretty mouth.

Sees the moment it suddenly vanishes and Ten’s eyes go hard. Sad. Almost hesitant.

“Tennie? What’s wrong?”

Ten shakes his head, looks at Johnny with this strain of … confusion.

“You haven’t actually changed a single bit at all,” He whispers out, scooting closer, placing himself in Johnny’s lap, and everything is too _real_. Ten is naked, skin against skin, on top of him. They’re chest to chest and he’s speaking so _softly_ that Johnny feels like he’s going to break, “Nothing’s changed at all, and still … nothing’s ever gonna be the same. It doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Johnny was confused to say the least. His boner was dying and he didn’t really understand why Ten was being so melodramatic out of seemingly nowhere. They were _fixing_ this. Weren’t they? He was trying to give Ten what he _needed_. Of course things couldn’t be perfectly, identically, exactly as they were before, but … they’d never exactly tried to be in a relationship before.

Johnny _hoped_ that’s where this was going. He couldn’t be sure, but … wherever it was going, as long as he and Ten were headed there together, he was okay with that.

“You sure you wanna do this, Tennie?” He’s reaching for reassurance, trying to understand what this strange, familiar, dreadful sensation is at the pit of his stomach that’s making him feel like he’s fucking up again when he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong.

Anxiety isn’t something Johnny experiences often. That’s _much_ more Taeyong’s department.

“I’m sure just … promise you won’t hate me tomorrow?”

It’s at this point, looking back, that Johnny feels stupid for not knowing the trap he’s falling into. Wonders if maybe the next week or so of his life would have gone by differently if he’d cut things off then, told Ten no, booked a room at the hotel and just … held him. Talked through things like healthy adults who aren’t trying to hurt each other.

But Johnny does not cut things off, they do not get a hotel room, they do not talk things through like healthy adults who aren’t trying to hurt each other.

Instead, they fuck … mindlessly.

Ten’s hand spreads lube over Johnny’s cock until he’s hard again, and then everything is happening so fast, even though he sits down so _slow_ , hot and tight and _Ten_ , wrapped around Johnny like the pretty little temptress that he is.

He _smiles_ when he finally bottoms out. They smile _together_ , big, dumb, goofy grins and they kiss, happily, teeth hitting clumsy teeth, lips desperate and excited and needy. Ten sighs almost out of _relief_ , hips stuttering slightly as he adjusts to Johnny’s girth.

“You okay?” Johnny questions, hand coming around to rub at the small of Ten’s back out of instinct. Ten nods, rising on shaking thighs and then lowering himself back down with a long moan. He keeps this pace, driving Johnny near insane, for what feels like several minutes – slow, up, down, eyelashes forming crescent moons against his blushing cheeks, lips wet and parted.

Johnny paints kisses over his neck, leaves behind water colored patterns in all of his favorite places to taste Ten’s skin, grips onto Ten’s hips and guides him faster – just a little, just enough that the friction can torture him properly, sliding smooth and so fucking _tight_ around him.

Ten rocks against him, leans forward so he can lean into Johnny’s shoulders, knees against the plush hotel carpet and ass rocking insistently against Johnny’s length, impaling himself more deeply at what must be a better angle if the way he trembles and keens is any inclination.

“You feel so good, baby…” Johnny sighs out, closing his eyes and just letting himself feel the _moment_. It’s less the way that Ten’s ass hugs and squeezes at his cock, and more the way that Ten mouths uselessly at his collarbones, the way Ten’s narrow little fingers grip against his bicep for leverage so he can move faster. The little ‘ooh!’ that he lets out when he hits his g spot _just right_ , the slimy streak of pre-cum against Johnny’s abdomen where Ten’s cock grazes against him with each stroke.

It’s perfect. It’s simple, but it’s all so perfect that Johnny has to try and burn it into his memory. Has to cherish it for the rest of his days. He’s a fiend for the _intimacy_ of it all – craves this closeness, the feeling of Ten’s heartbeat falling into meter with his own.

“M’gonna cum,” Ten blurts out, and Johnny is slightly surprised.

He’s not even close himself, but that is somehow capitally unimportant to him. His own orgasm, surely, is nothing in comparison to opening his eyes and watching Ten come undone atop him, thighs shaking and clenching around Johnny’s hips, mouth panting and hands squeezing so hard into Johnny’s arms that the marks from his fingers will remain for days.

He whines so fucking prettily that Johnny doesn’t think another sound in the world need ever exist, and he spills just as prettily, untouched, spurting over Johnny’s chest then dribbling down their stomachs and thighs. He doesn’t get off. Rather, leans back, pulls Johnny along with him until they’re in the missionary position, Ten on his back and Johnny atop him, and – fuck.

He’s smiling. Fucking _beaming_. Looks so hazy, and happy, and Johnny starts kissing him almost as hard as he starts fucking him, tongue diving deep and persistent, hips moving faster, faster, _faster_ because no, he didn’t think he was close at all before but seeing Ten finally, after so long, look at him like he actually cares. Look at him like he actually lo—

“Do it, cum inside me,”

There’s a split second where Johnny realizes that this permission is being given because they didn’t use a _condom_ , but before the fear hits his balls tighten and he’s fucking his own cum back into Ten’s ass which, honestly, is a lot more hot than he’d imagine a condom would have been.

“Holy fuck…” Ten gasps out, catching his breath and lowering his legs down flat against the carpet. He keeps his arms wrapped around Johnny, holds him so tightly that it’s like he’s afraid to let go, and then exhales. Resigned.

Determined, almost.

It clicks in Johnny’s mind exactly the moment it’s too late.

“This was a mistake,” Ten whispers, and his voice is lovely, and he’s right against Johnny’s ear, and he rocks up against Johnny again and his cock slips deeper, hasn’t quite gone soft yet and it’s too much – too much stimulation and too much emotion at once and how _dare_ Ten fuck him like he loves him, how _dare_ he pretend that he cared when he was—

“Man, I’m serious … you should go,”

Johnny’s head is swimming with fury and his eyes feel almost like he’s crying but that’s impossible, because he woke up hours ago and he never cries, never lets himself unless he’s just waking from sleep.

“Ten please don’t—”

“No, you don’t get it,” Ten isn’t keeping to his script properly. Johnny would know. This is a conversation they should be having later, several feet apart, not right _now_ when he can still _feel him_ twitching and clenching around his cock. Not _now_ when all it takes is a slight adjustment of his weight and he’s fucking back into Ten’s body, “There’s _someone else_ ,” Ten insists, and his voice cracks and he finally, _finally_ , pushes Johnny off of him. Gives him the physical distance that he should have before he started speaking.

Before he gave Johnny false hope. Before he used him up and cast him aside like—

“They’d freak if they knew I cheated. You get it, right?”

Johnny knows there’s no one else. Knows that Ten’s words were designed for no purpose but to hurt him. Knows that he’d explicitly asked Ten to do so and has no option but to weakly nod his agreement. That he gets it. He _gets_ it. Of course he mother _fucking_ gets it.

Ten is pulling his clothes on and Johnny is still lying face down on the carpet atop a damp spot of what’s probably his own cum. He hears the door click open.

“Don’t …” Ten sniffles. He’s crying. His stupid fucking melodramatic _diva_ best fucking friend is _crying_ and Johnny has never wanted to comfort him less, “Don’t be here when I get back, yeah? Just … forget this ever happened and try not to tell anyone, okay?”

Ten doesn’t wait for him to say okay. The door clicks behind him and Johnny isn’t sure at what point his body autopilots enough to get his legs in his pants and his shirt over his head, but at some point, about half an hour later, he finds himself sitting at the steering wheel of his car.

The drive back to the house is something of a spiritual experience. Not in a sense of any religion, or higher deity. Rather, it seems as if his solitude is heavier than usual. He’s pissed. He’s _more_ than pissed and the worst thing about it is that he’s more pissed with himself than he is with Ten.

He should have seen this coming, and it was all his fault. Everything was his fault. He’d asked Ten to hurt him and Ten had done so in spades, striking the only place where he knew it could count – right in the center of Johnny’s chest, where his heart felt like it was shattering.

He doesn’t want to go back to Marks, not even for long enough to pick up his things. The prospect of facing anyone who won’t understand what he’s going through is repulsive, and he pulls over to the side of the road for a minute to just … breathe.

This was his fault. This was his fault in a way that _only_ he and Ten could comprehend, and the overwhelming understanding of that was suffocating him. If he went to Mark’s … if he told _anyone_ , all they’d do was take his side blindly and commiserate with him. The _last_ thing Johnny needed right now was commiseration.

So he merges onto the highway to head back to campus. The frat house, technically, was closed – but Johnny had a key and his car got parked in the garage anyway. What were the odds that he’d really get caught and kicked out when they’d be allowed to return tomorrow anyway?

Besides, it’s two in the goddamn morning. He wouldn’t feel right barging in at the Lee household covered in love-bites and smelling like sex in the middle of the night like this after they’d so graciously opened their doors to him. And what if Ten was heading back to Mark’s?

No. He couldn’t risk seeing him again right now. He needed … at least twelve hours of space to lick his wounds, even if they _were_ , in their own way, self-inflicted.

So he goes home.

The house is strange when it’s empty. Too big, too empty. All of the furniture was placed based on two major forms of reasoning – the first being how many people could be seated in one room before having to lap up, and the second being how many people could fit into one room _standing_ up. There was no consideration of interior design or aesthetic, only couches, chairs, and ottomans pushed up against the walls. Without any people sitting in them, each room felt like the center of some sort of dressed-down arena stage.

Johnny, it felt, was a lone actor amidst the shittiest dress rehearsal of his life.

Alas, however, he’s not alone. He finds Taeyong in the kitchen, systematically emptying out their refrigerator of any food that had gone bad during winter break without any of them there to eat it. They don’t speak, because they don’t have to. Johnny holds open the refrigerator door silently, gazing down at his best friend, who was shivering violently in a way that he suspected had nothing to do with the cool air beating at him.

When Taeyong has a full garbage full of rotten food he passes it to Johnny to take out back and then reaches for the bleach and sponges. Obediently, Johnny takes the trash out back to the dumpster and chucks it. When he returns, Taeyong has removed his shirt and jeans to avoid bleach stains and is scrubbing diligently at the clear glass shelves. They fog up with condensation more and more as he goes and Johnny wonders how he’ll ever be able to tell that they’re clean without the affirmation of clear glass.

“You fucked Ten,” Taeyong finally states as he carefully returns their supply of La Croix and the unexpired condiments to their designated areas of the fridge, “Or is there some other reason that you smell like you nutted into a bottle of cologne worth more than my tuition?”

Johnny doesn’t answer, but looking down, realizes his hands have started shaking. Taeyong finishes with what he’s doing, reaches into his canvas bag and tosses Johnny a familiar rattling bottle. He swallows down a Valium to chill himself out and an Adderall to help him focus.

Taeyong digs around for a different bag, crisp white laminate and gauze lined.

“Bad day?” Johnny asks as his roommate fishes around and finally comes up with a clean needle, syringe, swab, filter, and tourniquet. He gets up to grab a bottle of water and a spoon and then sits back down before responding:

“Bad _life,_ Seo. But don’t change the subject.”

Taeyong didn’t inject his coke unless he was about a step away from a mental break down, so Johnny doesn’t speak on it, eyes observing quietly as the other man dissolves the white clumpy powder into a hot spoonful of water and pulls it up into the syringe with the needle.

“Yeah, I fucked Ten,” Johnny finally acknowledges, helping Taeyong tighten the tourniquet on his arm when his fingers fumble and tapping at the inside of his elbow for a vein. They get harder to find every day, like they’re on the run – like they know this shit is fucking terrible for them. Johnny feels terrible for being an _accomplice_ , but he’s tried _not_ supporting Taeyong’s drug habit before and all it does is add a wall of secrecy to their friendship that he doesn’t have the energy to be climbing over.

So he holds him still, finds a good vein, and carefully pushes the poison into his best friend’s arm – just in time for his own mind to begin calmly hazing over. Taeyong’s shivering stops and he exhales deeply as the rush hits his head, smiling his thanks to Johnny and leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder.

“I thought Ten hated us now. Kinda can’t imagine that he’d spread his legs for ya, but then … the more I think about it, the more I kinda _can_.”

Taeyong was leaning on Johnny so heavily now that Johnny was scared he might fall off of the stool, and as high up as their kitchen island was, that would probably not be a good thing. He supports Taeyong’s weight as he stands up, stands Taeyong up, and step by step gets them carefully up to the attic, where they both collapse onto Johnny’s bed.

“Kun hates us now for _sure_ , y’know,” Taeyong states, as if this is a fact he’s just recently become aware of and is excited to share, “Doesn’t associate himself with _junkies_ anymore _._ He’s too good for us these days.”

Johnny pulled Taeyong against his chest and sighed, “You’re not a fucking junky, Tae – and neither am I, for that matter. Kun’s just … Kun and Ten _both_ are just … they’re just hurting right now. They don’t always mean the things they say to us, or the things they do to us but they … they’re _hurt_. They’re hurt because _we_ hurt them.”

“Speak for yourself,” Taeyong replied, surprising Johnny not at all with his resistance to admit he’d ever done Kun wrong. Well. Johnny was firmly split between both sides of that issue, “All I ever did to Kun was love him. Not my fucking fault I’m not gay.”

Taeyong’s confidence on this issue was always a fleeting thing. He could live without guilt or regret if and only if he abandoned every sense of sobriety. Otherwise, he spent more time _crying_ about his loss of Kun’s friendship than he did bitching about it.

“I fucked Ten,” Johnny stated plainly, redirecting their conversation to its original subject curtly, “And then he told me … that there’s someone else,”

Taeyong laughs, bitterly, and Johnny closes his eyes before continuing.

“He told me there’s someone else, and that it was a _mistake_ , and I had to keep what we did a secret – so as not to upset his partner. Then he got up, and _left_. Like I was … fucking nothing to him.”

The recollection of what had just happened is stinging at Johnny’s chest and he shakes his head, unable to be upset with Taeyong for his uproarious laughter despite the way his heart keeps trying to break with every mirthful upheaval. 

“Well,” Taeyong drawls, getting up and crossing into his own half of their shared bedroom with a half-smile, “What do you expect _me_ to do about that?”

If Ten’s emotional sabotage had been a recipe for a pot roast dinner, it is this exact moment in which the timer dings to alert Johnny that the meal is fully prepared, and ready to be taken out of the oven and consumed. It’s the cherry on top of the perfect sundae – the icing on a gourmet tier cake.

“I think I’m starting to like you better when you’re not high,” Johnny retorts, rolling over on his side and opening his eyes to stare out of his window. There are two, in this room. Starkly different from one another. Johnny is staring less _out_ of the window and more _at_ the window – the newer one. The one that had been newly installed after the original glass shattered into what had felt like a million pieces.

“Nah,” Taeyong argues, “It’s just I’m sober so rarely these days that now it’s a _treat_.”

Johnny’s eyes travel to the windowsill, where the glass from the first, _broken_ window sits in a large mason jar. He’d collected it all, off of the floor in here and off of the concrete street below. He swore that he’d sort through it someday, pull out all of the blue and green and _old_ pieces and try to turn them to art. A mosaic, maybe. Something beautiful.

“You’re nicer when you’re sober,” Johnny mused.

“I’m weak when I’m sober.” Taeyong clipped back, sorting through his jewelry box and restocking his pill bottle with care, “Too weak to be social, too weak to get shit done, too weak to even get out of bed. Too weak to … fuckin’ just- … _live_ , y’know? It’s not like I’m shooting up to have a great fucking time, Johnny – I’m just trying to … fucking _live_ through a god damn day, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Johnny responds, as he always does, every single time they have this conversation. Because he gets it. He really, really does. He gets Taeyong more than he thinks Taeyong gets himself sometimes, “Yeah, I know.”

He did know. He really, really did.

If there was any day he could understand how alleviating one’s mind from reality would be the best option to proceed with living, it was today. Reality sucked today.

Johnny had known when he asked Ten to hurt him that he could expect to be hurt. He’d even known that he could expect Ten to be _cruel_ , but he hadn’t been able to predict how duplicitous the pain would be. To suspect that he would feel so thoroughly attacked and so violently _guilty_ at the same time had been beyond his scope of understanding.

He broods about it. He broods all morning while Taeyong goes on a mania induced scrub down of their entire house – broods all night while Taeyong sleeps and fucks and sleeps again beside him, asking multiple times if Johnny is _sure_ he doesn’t want a round with this girl and calling Johnny a lovesick idiot when he continues to say no.

He broods the next day, when the house is full again and still no one thinks to come and check on him, and then broods the day after that – _because_ no one came to check on him.

On day three – he sends Ten two texts. Five words. The first:

**I’m sorry.**

The second:

**I love you.**

He receives from Ten in return, one text – two words:

**I know.**

It might as well say _fuck you_ , for all it’s worth. Johnny’s first instinct is to drive up to N-U and scream at the top of his lungs, but just the thought of doing so puts a foul taste in his mouth. He’s not the type to have large, irrational displays of his rage – and he’s not even as angry as he wants to be.

Instead, he sends Ten another text. Six words:

**Tell me you love me too.**

Ten’s reply is four words:

**You love me too :P**

Johnny reads it and laughs. His first _real_ laugh in the last few days, and he finds himself weightless. Relieved. Truly, really, _relieved_. Because Ten is teasing him, which he hasn’t done in _years_ – and all of the pain, suddenly, feels worth it. This wasn’t the end, this was the beginning.

They were going to be okay. They were eventually, really, _finally_ – going to be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE remember that you can keep up with this story on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ftydty_official) as well, I have SO MUCH rolling out to you guys as far as bonus content, deleted scenes, character lookbooks, roommate profiles, and much much more!!

**Author's Note:**

> There is an [official twitter for this fanfic](https://twitter.com/ftydty_official) that you can follow for in-depth character profiles, headcanons, mood boards, deleted scenes, and other bonus content from the story that as of Feb 1st 2019 is not available anywhere else!
> 
> You can also check out my[ nct nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/pissdy), my [bts nsfw twitter](https://twitter.com/jiminspisspad), and [my writing twitter](https://twitter.com/lia_writes) if you’re interested in following my other social media! Thanks so much for reading, and an even bigger thanks to those who leave kudos and comments! I appreciate you guys so much!


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